


Doesn’t Seem to be a Shadow in the City

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, Magic-Users, Post Season 10, Psychic Abilities, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer in NYC finds Sam and Dean working a case that starts with a Frisbee in Central Park, two young red-haired sisters with a connection rivaling their own, the Black Pullet Seal an ancient grimoire, and two families, one unimaginably wealthy, one not at all, that have been intertwined for generations. Brothers, boyfriends, life-partners, whatever they are, they still have what it takes to solve a complicated case and sacrifice what it takes to keep people safe.  Set in a vague post season 10 timeframe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doesn’t Seem to be a Shadow in the City

**Author's Note:**

> The Winchester brothers are not my characters, the rest is only my words.This story started out to be for 2014 Spring Fling based on the prompt “summer in the city” Sam/Dean. But it got too long for springfling and way too schmoopy for the other prompts my recipient put in (which were pleasure/pain and empty), so here it is on its own for the 2014 Sam-Dean-minibang for samdean-otp. Thank you to the lovely candygramme for the speedy emergency beta which was super helpful! And I’m beyond pleased with the amazing art that lightthesparks created for this story.
> 
> Title from “Summer in the City” by the Loving Spoonful.
> 
> Babesne: Basque name meaning "protection." The Merrell’s live at 241 Central Park West, a 20 story apt bldg. built in 1930.

“When was the last case we had in a big city like this?” Dean asks, as he guides them up 10th Avenue through Hell’s Kitchen in Manhattan.

Sam looks up from the case file notebook that he’s been working on for the last hour. Even though he hasn’t heard a peep out of him since they got in the car in Newark, Dean knows that Sam hasn’t been ignoring him. Sam always has to read something when they’re in city traffic, otherwise he freaks out about every car coming at them. “That one we worked with that Ennis kid and the monster families in Chicago I think. Glad this one worked out so we could actually finish it.” Sam says in a voice that sounds a little sleepy, and definitely a little preoccupied.

“Yeah, I thought it’d been awhile. God I hope we can find somewhere safe to park,” Dean says, peering out the windshield left and right, searching for the rarest of unicorns, an available street space.

“Worrying about your baby huh?” Sam asks, folding a knee up under his butt and turning towards Dean.

“Yeah, course I am, there’s a lot of shit that can happen to a car like this in a city,” Dean says. “Remember what happened in Chicago, the two flats we got. Or that we were given. Assholes.”

Sam leans in and pats him on the shoulder. “We’ll find somewhere, don’t worry. I’m sure we still have some good parking karma left.”

Dean scoffs at the idea of parking karma, but as he drives into the crowded, narrow streets of the city, within a block of searching for a spot, he finds a perfect one, just as an old rust-bucket mid-1980’s Chevy Caprice pulls out in a cloud of burning oil. The space is under a tree, so the birds will probably crap on his baby, but at least the street is a little wider here, not as many businesses with double-parking delivery trucks and taxis trying to squeak through. They get out and stretch, in an almost choreographed display of unfolding their cramped, over six foot bodies.

Dean watches Sam over the roof of the car to see if he’s still babying his left shoulder that he claims is good as new. Once they meet up at the trunk, Dean reaches over and gently massages at the top of Sam’s shoulder. “Still bad huh?”

“Yeah, sitting all that time didn’t help,” Sam admits, going a little limp under Dean’s hands.

“Well, being in the city in the summertime will. You’ll stay warm, muscles can heal up, and we won’t be running around with big weapons, at least for a while yet.”

“I guess that’s something. What’s got you lookin’ on the bright side today anyways?” Sam asks as he pulls out his backpack, checking the pockets for the usual weaponry he carries.

Dean shrugs, “I don’t know, just happy we got to do a city hunt for a change. It’s more of a challenge for us, staying hidden from the civvies. Plus, I got to drive through the Lincoln Tunnel.”

“Was that on your bucket list or something?”

“Shut up. I just always wanted to ‘cause of that Stallone movie, where they’re trapped. Later we’re driving through the Queen’s Midtown tunnel, which is the one from Men in Black. Remember, when they’re driving upside-down?”

“I can never get over how much of a movie geek my brother is.”

~~*~~

 “So, uh where are we going anyways?” Sam asks after they’ve been walking for fifteen minutes up 10th Avenue.

“Oh, just heading up to the park,” Dean answers with a studied casualness to his tone.

Sam studies him sideways as they keep walking. “As in Central Park?”

Dean nods and doesn’t say anything.

Sam’s about to comment on this little side-trip that isn’t at all related to the case they just closed. And is likely only being made to satisfy more movie location geeking-out on Dean’s part. But those words aren’t necessary. No more words are, when there’s just the surprising feeling of Dean taking his hand like it’s no big deal. Walking along bumping hips, holding hands. Sam wants to say something, that’s his normal thing, to comment, to voice the observation. But something makes him stop. Maybe it’s the way that Dean’s shoulders are finally relaxed after months of the tension being so visibly obvious. But that’s gone now, his shoulders are normal, substantial and strong, but not held tight against whatever’s coming next. Sam squeezes Dean’s hand lightly, just to say something, and smiles when Dean looks up at him. Dean returns the smile, eyes twinkling at Sam’s nonverbal comment.

They cross over the midday madness of Columbus Circle to the corner entrance of the park, and Dean yanks on Sam to make him stop at the hot dog cart. “Look! Four for the price of two Sammy. You wanna?”

Pretty much the last thing he wants is a street vendor hot dog because who knows what the hell is in those anyways, but at the open, excited look on Dean’s face, he can’t do anything other than give in. “I’m not that hungry, I think I could eat one though.”

Dean grins and orders their dogs, putting the works on each and every one. “Let’s go find a place to sit and eat these.”

They head a little further into the park and come out onto the edge of a large expanse of lawn, they’re a bit higher up than the rest of it, so they sit on the edge of all the activity down below, partially shaded by the moving leaves of the trees up above. Sam eats his one hot dog, savoring the salt and grease, but enjoys even more watching Dean inhale all three of his, one after the other, the satisfied smile never leaving his lips, even when they’re covered in mustard and ketchup.  Sam leans over to lick it off, once Dean’s finally done chewing. A little hum of contentment comes from both of them, rising up into a near moan as the lick turns into a kiss. Sam presses Dean back until he’s lying in the grass, devouring the taste of summer in the city off of his brother’s lips.

Just when Sam’s about to suggest they get up and find someplace a little more private, he gets hit in the back of the head with something. He sits up in surprise and finds that it’s a bright purple Frisbee. Picking it up as he stands looking for its owner, he spies a little girl with red hair in pigtails bounding towards him waving her arms like crazy.  “Sorry mister!”

Sam grips the Frisbee in throwing position and launches it smoothly back to her.  She fumbles the catch but picks it up quickly. “Good throw! Here, catch!” She sends it back up the small hill to him, he has to run a little to catch her not entirely accurate throw, spinning in the air as he jumps to catch it, and launching it back to her as he lands back down. She catches it this time and does a victory dance, her purple dress swirling around her knees.  Sam claps and laughs at her contagious joy. Then he hears Dean laughing behind him.  He shades his eyes and looks back up at his brother, sprawled out from where he’d just kissed him down into the grass, propped up on his elbows watching him intently, a matching look of joy on his face. “Not bad Sammy!”

The girl has run up to Sam and wraps her arms around his legs, looking up at him with intense blue eyes. “Come play with me, please mister! You’re so much better than my mom.”  Sam looks down at her and suddenly worries that some angry mother is going to come freak out that her little girl is wrapped around a giant stranger. “Where is your mom, darlin’?”

“She’s over there,” the girl points about fifty feet away to where there’s a woman with red curly hair sitting on a checkered picnic blanket bouncing a baby on her lap.  The woman waves at the both of them, and Sam can see her hesitant smile.  “That your brother or sister she’s got?” Sam asks the girl. 

“Yeah, that’s **_my_ ** Macky,” she says proudly, and with a note of possession unusual in a kid her age.

“ ** _Your_** Macky huh? Well come on introduce me and we’ll see if your mom says it’s okay for me to throw this around with you,” Sam says.

The girl puts her hand in his and tugs him over towards her mom, “I’m Sarie by the way.”

“Hi Sarie, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sam.”

“Is that your boyfriend? Does he wanna play too?” Sarie asks, pointing back up the little hill towards Dean.

Sam pauses before answering, that’s one question that always merits a long pause. Does he claim Dean as a brother or admit that boyfriend fits also? Even from this distance he sees Dean’s amused, looking at him with this little girl. That decides him. “Yeah, he is. But no, I don’t think he’s ever tried Frisbee before.”

“Well that’s stupid, I’m gonna go ask him. What’s his name?” Sarie asks.

“Dean, his name’s Dean.”

She drops Sam’s hand and runs the small distance back up towards Dean, who Sam can see his eyes widen in surprise.  “Hey Dean, you gotta come play with us. Sam says so,” Sarie says, with her hands on her hips like she means business.

Dean throws his head back and laughs, that full body laugh that never fails to break Sam’s heart in two and mend it back bigger than it was. He gets up and joins her. “Okay, kiddo. What’re we playing?”

“Frisbee!” She yells and throws it hard over in the general direction where Sam is grinning like the love-struck fool that he always will be.  It almost gets away from him, because he’s so entranced with seeing his brother come towards him grinning that devil may care grin that’s been missing, but he spins and takes two long steps to come up with it. He flicks it back towards Dean, not sure whether it’ll be caught or not, but they’re so in-sync, just like always, of course it is. Dean catches it easily and sends it floating back over to Sam.  They get within speaking distance. “I didn’t know you could throw a Frisbee, Dean.”

“Course I can. So who’s your friend, Sam?” Dean asks, that grin looking even better close up.

“Oh this is Sarie, we’re gonna go ask her mom if we can play or not,” Sam answers with a return smile.

“Good idea, Sarie lead the way,” Dean says with a smile and a quick wink.

They each hold one of her hands, picking her up slightly every third step or so. Sam’s holding the Frisbee in his left hand to spare his shoulder the weight of swinging Sarie. 

“Hey, this isn’t gonna mess up your shoulder even more, right?” asks Dean over the top of Sarie’s shiny red curls.

“Naw, I’m throwing righty. Should be fine as long as I don’t make any diving catches,” Sam says, again surprised that Dean’s expressing so much concern about his shoulder.

“Well don’t, you’re gonna need both of your arms tonight,” Dean says.

Sam doesn’t answer beyond shooting Dean a lopsided grin and a waggle of one eyebrow over Sarie’s head between them.

Sarie’s mom is standing up now looking a little more concerned now that her little girl is flanked by these two enormous strangers, holding their hands and looking so happy. But she relaxes as they get closer and she can see the expressions on the men’s faces.  She shifts the baby up on her hip a little higher and calls out, “Sarie Marie are you bothering these guys?”

Sarie drops their hands and runs towards her mom shrieking, “Macky! Macky! You finally woke up!” The   baby stops looking up at her mom and turns towards her sister, matching blue eyes crinkling in delight, she reaches out making the gimme gimme signal with both hands almost falling out of her mom’s arms.  Sarie holds out her little arms and her mom deposits the squirming baby into her sister’s grasp. Sarie buries her face in Macky’s neck and kisses her with a loud smack, smoothing back the fuzzy red curls.  “See guys, this is my Macky.”

Sam and Dean catch up and stop a few steps away from the blanket and the little family. They look at each other and something indefinable passes between them, some echo of the past making itself known to them both. They smile that yeah-I-know-just-what-you’re-thinking smile at each other and turn back to meet the rest of this family. “ ** _Your_** Macky huh?” Dean asks with a big grin, recognizing that big sibling preemptive ownership vibe that he obviously shares with Sarie.

“Yup, she’s _allll mine_. Because I’m her big sister.”

“Hi ma’am, I’m Sam, this is Dean.” Sam reaches over to shake hands with the surprised mother.

She shakes and laughs a little, she’s a beautiful youngish looking woman with the same blue eyes and curly red hair as her girls. “Hey guys, I’m Ann, and you’ve already met my girls. Sorry if Sarie was bugging you. I can’t play with her like I used to be able to.” Ann gestures at the baby toys and equipment taking up most of the space on the blanket.

“Not a problem. We don’t ever get to play enough Frisbee, right Dean?” Sam asks, gesturing with the purple Frisbee.

“Yeah Sammy, pretty much never do,” Dean answers.

“Sarie, you can’t play Frisbee if you’re holding Macky, give her back please?” Ann asks.

“Macky you gotta watch us okay? Sam’s really good at throwing, wait’ll you see how many I catch,” Sarie says, jiggling her sister a few times until she giggles.

Ann scoops the baby out of her sister’s arms.  “Sarie, just stick around so you can see me and I can see you.”

“’kay momma, I don’t wanna go too far so Macky can watch,” Sarie says with a nod.

“That’s my girl.  Thanks, you guys,” Ann says, smiling a wide smile that matches Macky’s.

“Oh it’s our pleasure, believe me,” Sam answers with a big smile.

They throw the Frisbee back and forth with each other and Sarie for at least a half hour, both getting sweaty from running down her off the beam throws.  Finally Ann calls them back over, offering some juice in small cups and cubes of cut-up watermelon. They accept it gratefully, they haven’t been out in the hot summer sun like this in quite a while.

“That was fun to watch. You guys are so synchronized. Are you dancers or something?” Ann asks, her blue eyes twinkling with happiness.

“Something like that, we’ve been partners for a long time. Know each other’s moves,” Dean answers, finishing off his juice and handing her the small plastic cup back.

“Ah, I see. Well, it was kind of beautiful, and you entertained my daughter, so thanks for both things.”

“We thoroughly enjoyed it, Ann, we’ve never thrown a Frisbee with each other, and we pretty much never get a chance to hang out with kids as awesome as Sarie,” Sam says, with real enthusiasm.

“I am awesome!” Sarie yells, this causes her sister to clap and burble excitedly.

“Guess your little sister agrees, kiddo,” Sam observes with a laugh.

“These two are what, four years apart?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, pretty much exactly, good eye,” Ann answers, sizing up Dean again with a more critical eye like she’s curious why he’s an expert on children.

“I just recognize the big sibling thing, I was the exact same way with my little brother,” Dean says.

“Really? You were like me, Dean?” Sarie asks.

“Yeah Sarie, I never stopped either, my little brother is still the most important person in my whole life, nothin’ makes me happier than making him happy,” Dean says.

“Cool, that’s gonna be me and Macky,” Sarie says with a solemn nod, like she’s making a binding vow.

“Sounds like Macky’s a lucky girl,” Sam says, smiling so widely he thinks his face might fall apart. He so completely remembers that feeling when he was her age. Convinced that he and Dean were all that mattered. “I bet she’ll love you just as much right back, Sarie.”

Sarie shakes her head, disagreeing with that completely adorable vehemence only four year olds can get away with. “No way, she couldn’t ever.”

“Why do you say that baby?” Ann asks her daughter.

“’cause she’s the one that’s a baby, silly momma,” Sarie says, dismissing everything with a shake of her head.

“Well she’s going to grow up honey, she’ll be as old as you are now before you know it,” Ann persists.

“But I’ll always be older,” Sarie insists with a stubborn look that crinkles up her face.

“Yeah, she’ll always be younger than you. But she’s going to learn to love you, by the example you give her. That’s how she’ll love you the same right back.  She just might show it differently than you do,” Sam says.

“But I’ll still be her big sister though?” Sarie asks, sounding very worried.

“That’ll never change, even though she might want it to at some point, I bet when you’re our age, you’ll be looking out for her just like you do today,” answers Dean.

“Cool! Momma, can we play some more Frisbee?” Sarie asks.

“If Sam and Dean want to, how about ten more minutes?” Ann asks, obviously hoping that they’ll be game to keep playing.

“You guys go ahead without me, my shoulder is starting to really hurt,” Sam says, lying down on the blanket with his hand over his eyes.

“Okay, little brother, we’ll go try to have fun anyways without you,” Dean says as he scoops up the Frisbee and Sarie’s hand.

After Dean and Sarie’s voices fade a little in the distance, Ann asks, “So he’s your big brother huh?”

“Uh, yeah. He is,” Sam answers, worried that the brother versus boyfriend label will become an issue. It gets so tiresome keeping track of who’s been told what. But it’s worth it, always has been.

“He’s great with Sarie, was he like that with you?” Ann asks, pushing her mid-length hair out of her face so she can see Sam. It’s not as curly as her daughter’s, he notices, but almost the same exact shade of red.

“Yeah, from what I remember, he was. He pretty much raised me. Our mom died when he was four and I was a baby, and our dad had a hard time carrying on with much parenting.”

Ann’s open gentle face creases in concern. “Oh I’m so sorry. Well, you’re lucky that you had him.”

“Yeah I know. He’s a bit much sometimes with the big brother thing though. I mean, you heard him just now? But I still love him more than anything,” Sam says, surprised at himself for opening up to this woman that he’s just met. But he never gets the chance to talk about Dean to anyone, not in this completely unrelated to hunting sort of way.

“I can tell. I hope my girls are like that when they’re older like you two. Still in each other’s lives, caring so much, still looking out for their sister.”

“It’s one of the best things. No. It is **_the_** best thing in my whole life. It really, really is, having a big brother like Dean, no matter the things he’s done for me that I don’t agree with, or didn’t want at the time. I know I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you without him having been there the whole time for me.”

Ann’s smile broadens as she takes in the emotion on Sam’s face. “He knows all that, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?” Sam asks.

She smoothes the wrinkles in her green cotton skirt for a moment. “Just, I know how guys can be sometimes, not sharing feelings and stuff. Especially with each other. At least that’s how my husband and his brother are. I just hope you’ve told him at some point what he means to you. Someone like Dean, who’s given for so long like you say he has might appreciate hearing what you just said.  I tell you, it made me happy for you both just hearing it.”

Sam considers her words for a long moment, deciding that she is telling him something he should already have known. “You’re right, we hardly ever say things like that to each other. Pretty much ever. But I’m sure he knows how I feel. Still, tell you what, since you made such a good case, I’ll give it a try tonight.”

Ann’s smile brightens at his promise. “Good Sam, I hope he hears what you say.”

“Me too. Doesn’t always work out like that, but I’ll give it a shot,” Sam says with real hope in his voice, because she’s right. He thinks to himself _of course it’s important for Dean to know how much he means to me and I’m going to tell him whether he wants to hear it or not_.

“What’re you givin’ a shot?” asks Dean, stopping a full run with Sarie on his back giggling in his ear.

“Tell ya later,” Sam answers, grinning up at his brother, who looks about ten years younger with the giggling girl on his back.  “You look really good with a kid on you, Dean.”

“Got enough practice with you, squirt,” Dean says, easy grin making his face even more beautiful.

“So fellas, we’ve gotta get going, time for afternoon N-A-P to happen,” Ann says with hesitance.

“Momma, I know what that means. You don’t have to spell it,” Sarie interrupts.

“Can’t fool you, can I?” Ann says, smiling over Sarie’s head at the brothers.

“Nope, but maybe you can still fool Macky!” Sarie answers.

“Hey Sarie, it was fun playing with you today, thanks for letting us throw your Frisbee,” Sam says, catching Ann’s silent plea to let them take off for nap time.

Sam stands up slowly, Dean helping him to rise when he sees him about to use his injured arm. Sarie just nods at Sam instead of answering, looking a little sad.

“Sarie, say thank you to Sam and Dean. Come on sweetheart, manners,” Ann reminds her daughter.

Sarie looks up at both of them, with sad eyes, “Bye Sam, bye Dean. Thank you for playing with me,” Sarie says with a trembling lip.

“Hey, Sarie, no tears now. We had fun didn’t we?” Dean says, rubbing her shoulder gently.

“But we’ll never ever see you again, ever ever,” Sarie cries, “and you’re the nicest boyfriends I ever met.”

Ann isn’t sure what to say to that, because Sarie has to be confused about what Dean and Sam are to each other. But she’s more interested in getting them moving back towards home before a big meltdown happens to think much more about it.

“Tell you what, we don’t live here in the city, but we’re here for one more day. I’ll give your mom our phone number, and she can call us if you come to the park tomorrow, and we’ll meet you. Okay?” Sam offers, ruffling Sarie’s slightly sweaty hair.  He pulls out one of their business cards and hands it over to Ann. “Hope that’s okay with you, Ann?”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds great. We’re usually here by noon, but I’ll call you if we’re skipping it for some reason, thanks Sam,” Ann says gratefully. He’s given her at least a one day respite from the inevitable breakdown. Sarie always has such a hard time saying goodbye to people that she clicks with. And these brothers certainly have made an impression, on all of them really. Even Macky is engaged, returning the goofy faces Dean and Sarie are making at her, while Sam smiles, watching them interact.

“See you tomorrow then,” Dean says, patting Sarie’s head and waving goodbye to Macky. He and Sam watch the little family trundle off up towards the walkway and head out of sight. “Making us playdates now, Sammy?” Dean teases.

“Didn’t you notice, Dean?”

“No. What?” Dean asks.

“The hoodoo sigils etched on the picnic basket and on the stroller,” Sam says, pointing at the spot where the girls and their mother just disappeared.

“Yeah, I saw those, so?” Dean asks with a shrug, starting to walk off in the opposite direction.

“And the way the sisters were together? I mean they had to be psychic at the very least,” Sam points out as he strides to catch up.

“Psychic sisters, and a little hoodoo. Again, so?” Dean asks.

“Shouldn’t we check this out a little? Doesn’t it seem like our kind of thing?” Sam insists, tugging at Dean’s elbow to take the right turn on the pathway.

“I guess, but what are we gonna do about it if they are? It’s not like we’re up for killing kids or anything,” Dean says in a loud stage-whisper so that the passers-by on the path won’t hear their conversation.

“No, of course not. Just, I think we should make sure that Ann is at least is aware,” Sam says.

“How could she not be if there were hoodoo sigils on their stuff? It’s not Sarie doing that at her age, it’s gotta be Ann,” Dean says.

“Maybe they have a sitter or housekeeper or something? I don’t know. I just want to check it out. Make sure the girls are going to be okay.”

Dean chuckles, “You’d think you were an older brother or something.”

“Guess I learned from the best,” Sam says.

“Damn right,” Dean says with a huge sarcastic smile, because he never believes anything good about himself.

Sam sighs to himself when he hears Dean’s sarcasm, and gets more emphatic about what he’s trying to communicate. “No. I mean it, Dean. You are. I was talking to Ann about this earlier, when she was asking about us, and I started going on and on about you, and what you being my big brother has meant to me.”

“And that’s when she asked you why you were macking on your big brother?” Dean interrupts, obviously uncomfortable with where Sam seems to be heading.

“Stop for a second. Here sit down with me, and just would you listen for once?” Sam asks, pulling Dean down with him onto an empty park bench. The pathway is still full of people, but no one is paying them any attention.

“Fine, whatever. I’m listening,” Dean says, with his shoulders beginning to tense up.

“Ann didn’t see us making out. Or at least she didn’t say anything. But she did say that she thought I ought to make sure that you knew all the stuff I was telling her about you. And at first I said I was sure you knew all of that already. But she insisted, and now that I’ve thought about it a little, she’s probably right that you might not know it.”

“You were talkin’ about me huh?” Dean asks, leaning back against the bench and stretching his legs.

Sam shifts into the same position. “Yeah I was, and it’s not the kind of stuff we usually say to each other. So just let me get it out, then you can give me a hard time if you need to.” He can’t believe he’s actually going to say this out loud to his brother, but maybe it’s the summer heat, the beautiful day they’ve had, or just that it’s been unsaid for too long. Regardless, he’s going for it, no matter how much Dean teases.

“Such a drama queen, Sammy,” Dean teases, bumping into Sam’s shoulder with his own.

Sam turns to Dean and slaps him lightly on the shoulder. “God, would you just shut up for a second! It’s hard enough to say shit like this as it is,” Sam says, taking a breath to steady himself. “Let me see if I remember it all. I told her that you are **_the_** best thing in my whole life. Having a big brother like you, Dean, no matter the things you’ve done for me that I don’t agree with, or didn’t want at the time. I know I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you without you having been there the whole time for me.”

Dean doesn’t say anything for far too long and finally shakes his head quickly a few times. “Sammy, what the hell am I supposed to say to something like that?”

“Uh…I don’t know. Thanks or something, I guess,” Sam says quietly, head going down towards his chest, silently praying that Dean won’t get mad, that he’ll actually listen this time.

Dean clears his throat, and looks over at his brother’s bowed head, he puts one hand on Sam’s shoulder, luckily the uninjured one and squeezes it gently. “Thanks Sammy. Yeah I did know it, or hoped it was true, whatever. But…uh it’s nice to hear. So, like you said…uh, thanks.”

Sam reaches up and covers Dean’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing his back. “You’re welcome. And it made me think about all the times I’ve probably said something similar to other people, but never to you. And I’m sorry, I should have, and from here on out I’m going to, so be warned.”

Dean seems to have to readjust himself internally a little at that statement and moves his hand out from under Sam’s, clenching it with his own between his legs. He bends over a little, sagging like he’s feeling the weight of something suddenly heavy. “Uh…okay. And I’ve done the same thing. I do it a lot actually. Probably told more people than I could count what a badass you are, or how I can count on you coming through when I need you, or how strong you are. But yeah, I never say that stuff to you. Don’t know why, but I don’t. Do you want me to?”

Sam wishes Dean was looking at him and not the pavement and the quickly passing feet of the late afternoon crowd. It’s not that he thinks Dean is lying, but it’s just so unexpected to hear Dean admit this all of a sudden. “You have?”

Dean looks up and laser focuses on Sam’s face, seeming to search out why that could even be a question. “Yeah. Of course I have,” he says with true exasperation.

“Huh,” Sam replies, knowing in an instant how lame that is, and that he’s probably teetering on the edge of pissing Dean off big time. It’s so rare that his brother ever talks about himself or his feelings, that to have questioned it is definitely pushing the line, even for a little brother.

“What, you didn’t think I ever bragged on you to people?” Dean asks, sounding genuinely perplexed and edging on angry.

Sam shrugs and smiles a little at Dean’s insistence. “No, not really. I figured it was just something I did. Being a little brother and all.”

“What is this? You don’t think you’re worth talking about? Thought I was supposedly the one with self-esteem issues, not you.”

“Well, like you said, I did learn from the best,” Sam teases.

“You weren’t supposed to learn that, ya doofus,” Dean says, cuffing Sam on the back of the head.

Sam bats his hands up to shove Dean off and then they’re wrassling right there on the park bench in Central Park. Until Dean pins him against the back of the bench a bit too hard and grinds his injured shoulder. “Ah, stop!” Sam yells.

“Oh. God, shit forgot about your shoulder. You okay Sammy?” Dean asks, having instantly morphed from all-out battling to big brother concern and contrition in an instant.  He hoists Sam back up to a seated position and pats gently at his chest.

Sam grimaces a little as he settles into the re-awakened throb of his shoulder and searches Dean’s concerned face. It’s lit sideways by the sun filtering through the leafy cover above them, highlighting the fuzz on his upper lip and the golden green in his eyes. He breathes in the smell of his brother, honest summer sweat, faint hint of grease from the hotdogs, sweetness from the watermelon and the underlying individual Dean scent. Impulsively he leans forward and kisses him, strong and sure, right there in the middle of the throng of passing park-goers, going against the usual PDA rules they unconsciously follow. Dean responds immediately, opening up to Sam’s kiss, and wrapping one arm around his waist to hold him close.

Someone snickers and yells “Get a room ya pervs!” at them, but nothing more than that happens. No consequences, no battles to defend each other from the homophobes they routinely encounter. Sam sighs in relief into Dean’s embrace, pulling him in even closer against his body, kissing him harder because he can, because he wants to, because they have this chance. He breaks their kiss and breathes into the shell of Dean’s ear, “Wanna go back to our room?”

Dean looks shell-shocked, or maybe just kiss-shocked, his lips red and a bit swollen, eyes dazed and dilated. In answer he gives Sam a sideways grin and pulls him up off the bench, carefully avoiding his shoulder. With Dean’s arm slung around his waist and his over Dean’s back, they walk off towards the park exit, their strides instantly in-sync.

~~*~~

It doesn’t take long for them to get back to their hotel back in Newark, a Holiday Inn with free underground parking. The room is insanely expensive and pretty run-down, even for them. But they don’t care, because there’s a bed, and privacy and each other. And that’s what they need right now. Dean undresses Sam slowly and completely, kissing gently over the newly exposed skin, even the tops of Sam’s feet. Sam’s without words for once, captivated by how Dean’s treating him. Usually they’re going at it, hard and fast, but maybe the words they’d traded in the park have gentled things between them this time.

Dean pulls the covers back on the bed and pushes Sam in the center of the chest until he lies down on the cool white sheets. He stands up and stops moving for a second, strangely still, as if he’s caught by the vision of Sam laid out on the bed below him. Sam doesn’t move or speak, just soaks in the attention, feeling Dean’s gaze land on his bare skin like a touch. He can’t help the groan that escapes when Dean looks at his quickly thickening cock, especially when he sees Dean’s pink tongue flick out and lick at his lips. He pulses his hips up a few times and that seems to break Dean out of his staring spell.

“Touch yourself, Sammy,” Dean says in a voice hoarse with desire.

Sam’s hand is moving before he’s conscious of it, grasping his hard length and stroking firmly with a twist at the head that makes him gasp. He’s so turned on by Dean’s intense attention and surprising commands, that he’s just noticing that Dean is still fully clothed, which makes it all even more erotic. Dean’s eyes are alternating between holding his eyes so strongly it feels like it’ll be permanent soon and raking his moving hand and cock with a look so heavy it feels like he’s wrapped his hand around Sam’s. “Come for me now, Sammy,” Dean commands.

In this moment, Sam can’t do anything else except exactly what Dean’s ordered him to do. He lets loose on himself, arching up in a tight bow until all the shudders have left him. Dean’s eyes sparkle in their depthless green, a twinkle that holds an unsaid amount of praise that Sam doesn’t need to hear said out loud. At least not this time. Sam lays there, hand around his still hard cock, staring up at Dean, wishing that he could read his mind just this once, because he’s never seen this look on Dean’s face before. Just as he’s about to ask, Dean smiles and reaches down with one hand to touch the cooling come on Sam’s stomach.

Without letting go of Sam’s gaze, Dean runs his fingers through the sticky mess, painting designs and sigils and words into the skin of Sam’s taut belly. Sam keeps his hand around his cock, holding his breath as he waits for what will happen next. Dean’s got him so off-balance, they never do anything like this, and he’s so curious about why. But all of that is swept away when Dean finally speaks. “This is why, Sam. This right here. You are fucking amazing.”

Sam feels himself smile like he’s in another plane of existence, soaking up the unexpected praise. He could purr contentedly if he was a cat right now. Under Dean’s hand, hearing that voice say those words, holding his eyes, under his spell. He has no words of his own, but he doesn’t need any. He reaches up to Dean’s face, lightly stroking along his cheekbone with two fingers until he reaches Dean’s lips. Dean’s tongue darts out and licks at his fingertips. A full-body shudder goes through Sam, reminding his body of its recent orgasm, and he feels his cock jump in his hand.

“Need you, Dean,” Sam finally manages to say.

Dean nods in response, and makes quick work of taking off his own clothes. He crawls up the bed and settles over Sam, slotting himself into the familiar hollows of Sam’s body.  They grind together while Dean sets about kissing his way up and down Sam’s neck. Sam holds Dean tight against him, one hand gripping each side of his ass. He can feel Dean hardening even more and pushes him off before he can come. “C’mon, need you in me.”

With a low chuckle, Dean rolls over to reach for the lube, Sam tracing his hands along the elegant stretch of Dean’s long body. Dean shivers and sits up, moving between Sam’s legs. He warms up some lube between his palms and then sets to opening Sam up slowly while stroking his own cock with his other slicked-up hand. Sam watches the slow movement of Dean’s hand, timed to move with his fingers scissoring inside him.

Finally it’s too much and he flips them. Dean laughs in surprise, holding Sam’s hips as he lowers himself down. When Dean’s all the way inside, Sam apologizes, “Sorry, but you were taking too damn long.”

“No apology necessary, just ride me,” Dean says, in a voice that sounds like he’s been up all night drinking whiskey. His green eyes glitter up at Sam, locking them together in a loop of sensation and desire.

Sam can’t speak, he can only do as Dean says, and he rides Dean, slowly at first, then speeding up into the faster rhythm they usually like best. He feels so perfect, full and stretched, it’s just so good.

“Look at you, still hard for me,” Dean says, still-slick hand gliding up and down Sam’s hard length.

Groaning at the touch, Sam tightens up around Dean in sync with his hand’s movements and Dean’s body begins to tighten and arch. His words and sounds fade as he disappears into bliss. Sam feels the new slickness deep inside, and another orgasm takes him over to join Dean.  They separate and clean off in a minimal way and pretty much pass out without another word, sated and complete.

~~*~~

“So while you were lazing around this morning, I sketched out the signs I remembered seeing on the girl’s stuff. You have anything to add to it before I start researching?” Sam asks, handing the notebook over to Dean.

Dean stirs himself just enough to reach for the notebook, but stays under the covers as much as he can manage. He looks at what Sam’s drawn so far and then reaches out a hand and makes a grabby motion.  Sam slaps a pen into Dean’s outstretched hand, smiling at the frown of concentration on Dean’s face. He watches as Dean starts adding to what he’s drawn and sketches out a couple of smaller symbols he hadn’t picked up on.

“These look really familiar to me. But they’re not the usual hoodoo or voudoun stuff we’ve seen before,” Sam says, peering at the notebook upside down.

Dean looks up from the paper and sets the pen down when he sees how close Sam is, how much in his space he has ventured. He turns his face up slightly and closes his eyes. Sam notices the movement even though he’s focused on the arcane symbols.  How can he not? It’s Dean, and he’s right there, apparently expecting a kiss. Sam leans in and brushes their lips together softly. Dean lets out a pleased hum and keeps his eyes closed, parting his lips slightly. Sam nibbles gently on Dean’s bottom lip until he gets the groan he wants to hear from Dean.

“Don’t be starting anything you’re not gonna finish. Or haven’t I taught you anything?” Dean whispers against Sam’s pressing mouth.

“Shut up and let me,” Sam answers, moving the notebook out of the way.

~~*~~

“Okay, this time I’m up for good, and I’m researching, no interrupting me unless you’re bringing me food,” Sam says from the bathroom door, pointing at Dean like he means business this time.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who started it buddy. I was lying here minding my own business,” Dean says, gesturing at the length of his body under the blankets.

“Yeah but you lying there is enough,” Sam says before he realizes what he’s admitting to.

“I’m just that irresistible huh?” Dean teases.

“Cut it out, I’m trying to get some work done on this before we go meet the girls at the park. It’ll probably be our only chance.”

Dean finally gets vertical, and throws his pillow at Sam on his way to the bathroom. He sings loudly in the shower but isn’t too annoying much past that level.  Nothing Sam can’t deal with. Not when he’s onto figuring out what these sigils mean.

“Get this,” Sam says in that infectious enthusiastic voice he knows makes him sound like a five year old, but he needs Dean’s attention to help figure this out.  “These are something called Black Pullet Seals, not really hoodoo like we thought.”

“Huh, well what are they then?” Dean asks, looking down at the notebook that is now covered in Sam’s neat writing, all around the symbols they’d drawn out earlier.

“It’s based on a French grimoire from the 18th century. But it’s really Egyptian in origin.”

“So something besides witchcraft then?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, I guess. Not sure yet. But is seems like it’s just protection stuff as far as I can tell. Serious level protection though.”

“So we still gotta ask Ann about it then?” Dean asks, sounding as reluctant as Sam’s feeling.

“Unfortunately, we do. Just to make sure she knows about it at least,” Sam answers, packing up his notebook in his backpack and heading out the motel door.

Dean follows behind him and checks that the door is locked. “She seems like the kinda parent that would be aware enough to notice those things carved into the side of the damn picnic basket.”

“Well we won’t know until we ask her. You ready for more Frisbee?” Sam asks, starting down the long interior hotel hallway.

“Sure. As long as I get some more of those street vendor hot dogs, I’m all yours, Mr. California,” Dean answers.

“Why’re you calling me that?” Sam asks, wondering where in the world this is all of a sudden coming from.

“Well isn’t that where people play Frisbee? You musta learned it there, ‘cause I sure never taught you,” Dean answers as he catches up to Sam and passes him, reaching the stairway door first.

Sam swipes the card key to open it and Dean pushes through. “Frisbee is played all over the world, Dean. Yes I happened to learn it while I was at school, so what?”

“That’s where I learned it. When I came to check up on you,” Dean says over his shoulder as he walks through the crowded parking lot to the Impala. Their footsteps echo in the underground garage, out of sync as Sam hurries to catch up.

“When did you do that?” Sam asks, trailing along behind him, feeling like a lost five year old all of a sudden, none of this makes sense.

“Came out with Dad a couple times, we were just makin’ sure you were settled in okay, checkin’ that you were takin’ precautions like we hoped you would. Couple of blondes showed me a few tricks with the disc out on that big lawn by your first dorm. Think you were in History class at the time.”

“I can’t believe you never told me,” Sam says, stunned with this brand-new information.

“You never asked, Sammy,” Dean says with a shrug, stopping at the Impala on the driver’s side of course.

“I just assumed,” Sam says, knowing that sounds weak, as he stands across the car from his brother.

“Assumed what? That I just forgot all about you while you were gone? Man you got no friggin’ clue sometimes,” Dean says, looking Sam in the eye like he’s never going to stop.

Sam holds Dean’s gaze, returning the feeling. “No, I knew you didn’t forget me. I mean I hoped you didn’t. I just…uh, didn’t think you were over being mad at me for leaving.”

“Well I wasn’t, not then. But me and Dad, we had to make sure you were alright,” Dean says, finally looking down to unlock the driver’s side door.

“I’m sorry it was like that. I wish sometimes I’d never left in the first place,” Sam says, watching Dean stalk around the car towards him.

Dean doesn’t say anything until he’s unlocked Sam’s door. “Not me. You needed to get out. I didn’t get it at first. I mean I really didn’t, took it all personal, that you’d left me. But yeah, Sammy, you needed to be out of the life. I hoped it’d be for good.”

“Didn’t work out quite that way did it?” Sam asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Nope,” Dean answers, saying a lot with that one word. “I’m gonna go check us out,” he says, handing his duffel to Sam and striding off towards the office end of the parking garage. His boots make a solid lonely echo as he disappears quickly from view.   

Sam is left standing with their bags, staring at Dean’s retreat, wishing that he could have said something to that. Something about how he’s glad it didn’t work out that way, because it means they’ve been together all this time. But there’s no point, Dean will never see it that way. He’s never forgiven himself for what he still calls dragging Sam back into the life. Sam thinks about how long it’s been since he’s even daydreamed about having another life beside the one he leads with his brother. All that hoping for a normal life is so far back in his past. **_This_** is his normal, packing up the Impala as they move on to the next job.

They’re quiet in the car, all the way into the city, over the bridge, and on the walk down the busy sidewalks, pushing through the crowds, but still staying in physical contact, shoulders occasionally bumping. But Sam’s mind is not quiet, it’s racing with all the possibilities Dean’s confession brings up, all the things that could have happened if Dean had just let himself be seen all those years ago on campus. Sam remembers how torn his heart was then, how he’d tried his best to ignore the loneliness and let other people fill the space that Dean had left behind. But it had never quite worked. Even with Jess, she just didn’t fit into that Dean-shaped hole in his heart.  All those what-ifs get blown out of his mind when he looks over at Dean at his side, striding down the New York City sidewalk like he owns the place. Dean notices his attention and grins up at him.

“You really like it here, don’t you?” Sam asks in what he hopes is a just asking because I’m noticing tone.

“Yeah, I do. There’s a lot of…I don’t know, good energy,” Dean answers, looking at Sam briefly a few times like he’s not sure he should have said that.

“That’s pretty woo-woo for you,” Sam teases.

“Yeah I know, but it’s true. There’s a lot going on, and it’s exciting,” Dean says.

“You think you’d ever want to try living here?” Sam asks.

Dean shrugs after he thinks about it for a moment. “I never thought about it. I guess I would, sure.”

“Huh,” Sam says, aware that huh is a stupid thing to say, but out of words because he’d never thought Dean would want to try living in such a big city.

“Why? Do you wanna?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to end up in a big city. Small towns are just too small. I stick out too much.”

“Sasquatch, you stick out everywhere,” Dean teases. “But I get what you mean, we’re a little too remarkable to just fade into some small town. Even when we were livin’ in the bunker, I thought we’d bring the cops down on us any second because we were so different than everyone around there.”

“I miss it,” Sam says in a quiet voice that he knows Dean will still hear.

“What? The bunker?” Dean asks. Sam answers him with a silent nod. Both of them remembering the awful end of the angel war, at least the part they were involved with. It had taken out the bunker, and everything it had meant to them.

Dean finally says, “Well at least we had it for a while right? Someplace to call home.”

Sam stops in his tracks, causing the people behind him to have to shuffle quickly to avoid him. He pulls Dean over to the edge of the sidewalk behind one of the parking meters. “We have always had that Dean. Always.”

Dean looks up at him and seems confused for a moment, then Sam reaches out and touches him on his chest briefly, where the protection tattoo is hidden under his red plaid shirt. Comprehension dawns over his face, causing a beautiful smile to appear. “Yeah, I know Sammy. I know. But I always wanted to give you something more.”

Sam pulls him into a hug, surprising both of them. He feels like he’s going to cry, or laugh, or both. Instead he says, “You already have, Dean. Everyday.”

In answer, Dean hugs him back with a sudden fierceness that makes Sam gasp. He’s not sure why they’re both doing the caring and sharing thing so much. Maybe it’s just them getting older, or maybe it’s talking about the what-if’s of the future and both of them realizing that it’s going to be them, together until it’s all over. “We better, uh, get going, don’t wanna to miss the girls at the park,” Dean says, with a slightly scratchy voice that’s not covering up all the emotion he’s obviously feeling too.

“Can we talk about this later tonight?” Sam asks, striding to catch up with his brother who’s taken a few quick steps away.

“Yeah, of course, but you gotta buy me dinner first,” Dean answers with a sly smile.

Sam grins at his brother’s reaction. “Cool, thanks. I’ll ask Ann for a recommendation.”

They make it to Columbus Circle and buy hot dogs from the same vendor again. This time Dean loads up two of them with twice as much sauerkraut. “I am not touching those, don’t you get that nasty stuff on my dogs,” Sam says, making a face to express his disgust at all the excess condiments.

“My dogs? What? Now you’re having _two_ of them? What happened to ‘oh I’ll just have one’?”

“Yeah, they’re, uh better than I remember them being,” Sam admits with a shrug.

“See, maybe city livin’ wouldn’t be so bad,” Dean says, with his mouth full of half-chewed hot dog.

Sam winces when he sees a wad of mustard and sauerkraut fall out of Dean’s mouth and bounce off his chest onto the sidewalk. “Dean, we wouldn’t be eating hot dogs every day.”

“Sure, sure. But the point is, that we _could_ have one of these babies every day for lunch, if we wanted to,” Dean says, smacking his lips in satisfaction after finishing his first dog.

Sam can only sigh in response, thinking to himself ‘I would have to watch what you eat even closer than I do already.’ But he doesn’t say anything out loud, because his mouth is full of hot dog.

They are done with the hotdogs by the time they reach the edge of the same enormous lawn they were at yesterday when they met the girls.  “You know there’s a place here called Strawberry Fields right?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, it’s like a Lennon tribute thing,” Sam answers.

“I wanna go there, once we’re done with checkin’ on Sarie.”

“Okay, we’ll go find it,” Sam answers, happy that Dean’s asking for something for once, instead of quizzing him on what he wants to do.

Their quiet walk on the lawn is interrupted by a far-off scream, “Sam! Dean! You’re here!”  It’s Sarie of course, jumping up and down and waving her arms wildly next to her sister’s stroller.  They can see Ann wave at them and try to calm her down.  Both of them chuckle and elbow each other as they quickly walk over.

“Hello, ladies, how are we all doing today?” Dean asks.

“I am not a lady, and Macky isn’t either,” Sarie says indignantly, hands on her hips. “My mommy is though.”

“Oh well then, how are all of you fine people doing today, how’s that?” Dean tries again.

“We’re great. And you came and I’m so happy. Macky and me have been waiting allll morning until now,” Sarie answers, giving Dean a big hug around the legs and beaming up at him.

“Macky wanted to see us too huh?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, she’s real excited about you, she says you’re helpers that we need,” Sarie says, looking at both of their faces with her wide blue eyes.

“Honey, we talked about this. Be clear about what who says what. Macky doesn’t say anything by herself yet,” Ann says.

Sarie holds her sister’s hand and looks up at her mom with an exasperated face. “I keep telling you mommy, she talks to me all the time. She talks even more than I do.”

“Sarie, I don’t want you confusing everyone with this,” Ann insists more firmly.

“She’s not Ann, we get it, don’t worry,” Sam says, trying to reassure the worried mother.  “We’re, uh, a little familiar with this sort of thing ourselves.”

“What do you mean exactly?” Ann asks, sounding a little alarmed.

“Well, psychic stuff. I used to, well, I used to have a touch of it. Not anymore, back when I was younger. And we get it, it can be a little confusing,” Sam answers, still trying to sound reassuring.

“Did you know this somehow, before Sarie said anything?” Ann asks, looking serious and like she’s ready to bolt with her girls at any moment.

Dean puts up his hands in a disarming gesture. “We saw the sigils, on the basket and the stroller. And we noticed how unusual the girls were together. That’s all, we swear.”

“So Mackenzie says you’re helpers, huh? Well, what exactly are you going to help us with?” Ann asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest and widening her stance a little.

Sam sees Ann’s defenses going up, and tries to make himself look as non-threatening as possible. “We have no idea. We just wanted to…well, uh we wanted to make sure that you knew what was up, with the girls and the sigils. We’ve seen stuff go wrong for folks before. And we really liked y’all, wanted to make sure you were all okay.”

“The sigils I know about. My housekeeper put them on there for us. She said they were just for protection. They are, right?” Ann asks.

Dean nods. “Yeah. Really strong protection, nothin’ is messin’ with any of you if you’ve got that kind of mojo workin’ for you. Has your housekeeper made any other sigils for you?”

“No, not that I know of, just these. She’s put them all over the place. She even,” Ann stops talking while she pulls up Sarie’s hair and turns out the back of her collar, showing them the embroidered sigil. “She sewed these in all the clothes the girls wear outside of the house.”

Dean and Sam whistle in appreciation. “Wow, she’s really lookin’ out for you. That’s good. Ann, can I go ahead and ask Sarie something?” Dean asks.

“Sure,” Ann answers, looking relieved at their responses so far. She turns to look at her girls. “Sarie, you can trust them, just like Macky said, they’re helpers, go ahead and tell them.” 

“Sarie, have you seen any other markings like these, anywhere near your house, or other places you guys go?” Dean asks.

Sarie tilts her head to one side like she is listening to someone far away. “I never saw any. But Macky says to tell you there’s a new one by the tire on our van. It’s only been there a few days. She can see it when she’s in her stroller next to the van.”

Dean pats her gently on the shoulder. “Okay, that’s good, that’s real good. We’ll check it out later when we’re leaving the park. Anything else you can think of? Anything that sticks out as strange that you’ve noticed?”

Sarie tilts her head again, red curls falling over her face briefly. “There’s a noise lately, at night when everyone else is sleeping. Sounds like scratching by the window in our room. I’ve heard it a few times, and Macky has too. We never told you Mommy, I’m sorry.”

Ann’s eyes get big in fear, but she tries to control her expression to not scare the girls. “It’s okay honey, we’ll, uh, we’ll have Sam and Dean come over for dinner and they’ll make sure everything is safe, how’s that sound?” Ann looks over at Sam and Dean quickly and is reassured to see their quick nods.

“Yay! But I wanna play Frisbee now, you promised mommy,” Sarie says in a near-whine.

“Yes, let’s do this!” Sam yells, happy that they’ve gotten through the first conversation they’d been dreading, he heads out onto the vast expanse of green grass with Sarie, shading his eyes to look back at Dean talking with Ann and holding Macky on his hip.  Just like the last time he’d seen his brother with a baby (even though it’d turned out to be a shape shifter, and he hadn’t had a soul at the time) he considers how good Dean looks with a kid. No matter what age, how they usually just click with him. Dean’s always had a way with kids, an unconscious, unclaimed talent. _Probably because he had to figure out how to deal with me since he was always so much more than just my brother._ Sam concentrates on throwing the Frisbee with Sarie, because going down that line of thinking is always fraught with more than a little confusion.  

Eventually Dean jogs over to join them, and Sam chooses not to say anything, although he could needle him about his biological clock going off or some shit. But it’s suddenly too heavy to think about that. Because neither of them is ever going to have a kid, that’s just how it has ended up _. Maybe it’s better we don’t pass on the family curse anyways_ , Sam thinks to himself for the approximately the millionth time.

Dean notices of course that Sam is deep in thought, especially for someone playing Frisbee with a cool kid like Sarie. He’d thought Sam was really into doing this again today, was looking forward to it even. But there’s Sam with that deep curvy wrinkle between his eyebrows that, in Dean’s experience, means Sam is getting stuck in the details or on something heavy and unsolvable. “Hey Sammy, think fast!” Dean yells, whipping the Frisbee at Sam’s midsection as hard as he can.

Sam snaps out of his daze just in time to handle the disc easily. “Not so hard Dean!” Sam yells back at him, shaking out the hand that took the most impact. He then softly tosses it over to Sarie. She’s running full out for it, overshooting by a mile and doubling back in a decreasing circle, running four times as much as she actually needs to. Soon she gives up on trying to actually catch the Frisbee and is just dashing between the two men, hip checking them at the knees.  Both of them start laughing because they have no idea what game they’re playing now, but keep tossing the Frisbee back and forth, taking a few steps towards each other until they’re close enough to see each other clearly.

Dean can see now that Sam’s snapped out of whatever funk he was in, that he’s having fun, and that’s a relief. Because it’s one thing to be upset or worried, but on a day like this, out in the sun, at this beautiful park, with this great kid, and with all the stuff they’ve been talking about since they got into the city, Dean’s pretty damn happy. He lets it show on his face, just how happy and content he is, and sees Sam’s surprise and quickly returned smile. Yeah, Sam gets it. This is a good day.

All this is broken by a baby’s sharp, panicked cry. Both of the brothers whip their heads around towards Ann and Macky, and are in motion before Macky can take a breath to cry a second time. Ann is down, lying sprawled awkwardly half off and half on the red plaid blanket. Macky is sitting up next to her, waving her chubby hands in the air to try to make them hurry faster. Dean scoops Sarie up and they run to catch up with Sam who’s already kneeling next to Ann, beginning CPR.  “Dean! She’s not breathing!” Sam yells over his shoulder.

Dean transfers Sarie to the other arm and pulls out his cell phone, dialing 9-1-1 for only the second time in his life. When the operator answers he’s lost on how to describe where they are. “I’m not from here, but it’s the giant lawn in Central Park, we’re at the corner of the lawn closest to Columbus Circle. No, she’s not breathing. My brother’s doing CPR, hold on. Sam?”

“Uh, she feels hot Dean, really hot. And there was no pulse. Doing compressions again,” Sam answers, counting out loud the compressions and the breaths.

Dean continues his call with the 9-1-1 operator. “No, no pulse. And she’s very hot. He’s still doing CPR,” Dean says.  Sarie launches herself out of Dean’s hold and lands next to Macky, scooping her up in her arms. Once her sister’s settled, she steps back and leans against Dean’s legs out of Sam’s way. “You need help Sam?” Dean asks.

Sam breathes for Ann again, then answers as he does compressions, “Help me keep count,” Sam says. “I’m scared I’m gonna lose track.”

“Yes operator, still doing CPR, no response yet,” Dean answers the operator again. Just as the words leave his mouth, they’re all shocked by the deep breath Ann takes on her own, and then a mighty cough.  “She’s back, uh, she’s breathing and coughing on her own.”

“Pulse is getting steadier, but still erratic,” Sam reports.  Dean relays this onto the operator and keeps one hand firmly on the top of Sarie’s head. “She’s gonna be okay Sarie, don’t worry, Sam’s got this.”

“I know, Macky said Mommy ate the bad thing, but she needs to go to the big doctor.”

“What bad thing Sarie?” Dean asks, bending down to get Sarie’s attention away from what’s going on with her mom.

Both Macky and Sarie point at the red picnic basket that’s been opened up, a plastic container is open with a silver spoon sticking out.  Dean shuffles over holding Sarie close to peek at the food.  “Sam, this is what did it, according to the girls. Don’t touch it, just in case,” Dean says, as Sam reaches across Ann’s body to pull the basket closer.

“It’s smoking Dean, look,” Sam points as a thin steady stream of grey green smoke lifts out of the basket and disperses into the air around them. Dean reaches down to cover the girl’s faces. “Don’t breathe girls, just in case.” Sarie’s eyes are huge with fear as she watches the smoke encircle Sam’s head. “Sam, don’t breathe, it’s all around you,” Dean says, backing away quickly with the girls. 

Sam nods and holds his breath, and zips up the picnic basket, he quickly stands and walks it over to nearby trees, depositing it among the roots.  He’s back at Ann’s side in a moment, waving the girl’s sweaters to clear the air.

“Did that look like any smoke you’ve ever seen?” Sam asks, kneeling back down on the blanket next to Ann and checking her pulse again.

“No, reminded me of some that’s come from spells and stuff though,” Dean answers, patting his hands gently on Sarie’s shoulders.

“That’s what I was thinking. Sarie, do you or Macky know any more about this?” Sam asks.

Sarie nods, breaking out of her worried focus on her mother. “Babesne will know.”

“Who’s Babesne?”

“Mommy calls her our housekeeper. But Macky and me know she’s our Protector. That’s what she told us her name means.”

“Okay, we’re gonna have to get ahold of this Babesne somehow. But first we get your mom better, okay?” Sam says, trying to look as calm and competent as he can.

Macky starts pointing towards one of the larger park roads, “Macky says they’re coming now.”

“Sam, what’re we gonna tell them? We can’t let anyone near that food, just in case it’s cursed and not just leftovers gone wrong,” Dean asks, gesturing at the basket.

“It’s got to be cursed, with that smoke and everything. And yeah, we’ll leave that out. She’s breathing okay now, and her pulse is steady. I’m just worried about how hot she is. They’ll have to take her to the hospital,” Sam says, smoothing Ann’s hair after feeling her forehead again.

“The big doctor, like Macky said,” Sarie agrees, nodding so vigorously her red curls bounce against Dean’s hand. She shifts Macky in her arms, but still holds onto her sister tightly.

“Yeah, Sarie, the big doctor, she was right,” Dean says, holding her close against his legs.  The paramedics park and hurry over with a stretcher and their equipment bags.

“Sir, we’re going to have to bring her into the hospital, this fever is getting into the serious range,” says one of the paramedics after they’ve got Ann strapped onto the stretcher.

“I figured. I’ll go with her. Dean, you’ll be okay with the girls right? I don’t think we should let Ann go on her own. Don’t forget to get the basket.”

“Yeah Sam, no problem. We’ll be good. Just text me when you know what’s up and what hospital you’re at, we’ll catch up to you,” Dean says, grabbing Sam’s hand for a quick reassuring squeeze. “You did good Sammy.”  Sam doesn’t say anything but smiles with a grateful look, then follows the paramedics, talking to them about what happened.

Left on his own with the girls to take care of, Dean quickly thinks about transportation, there have to be baby car seats in Ann’s car right? “Sarie, can you show me where your mom parked today?”

“Parked?” Sarie asks, eyes still riveted on her mother strapped to the stretcher getting further and further away.

“Yeah, so we can drive to the hospital and check on her,” Dean says, rubbing her shoulders to break her out of the sad trance she’s falling into.

“We didn’t drive, we walked, like always,” Sarie says, finally looking up at Dean.

“Okay, then where is your van, the one you said Macky saw the sign on?” Dean asks.

“In the garage, under our building, where Sergio parks,” Sarie answers, starting to sound a little frustrated with how many questions Dean is asking.

Dean hears her building frustration and tries to ask as non-patronizingly as possible, “Can you show me the building then, ‘cause I have no idea where y’all live?”

“Yep!” Sarie says, and points at one of the looming buildings facing the park. “That’s it over there.”

 It looks vaguely familiar to Dean, maybe it was even in a movie at some point? “Wow, well, that’s close then. Let’s pack up everything and head over.”

The fancy uniform-wearing doorman stops Dean as they pass under the front awning. “Sir, may I inquire as to why you have Mrs. Merrell’s girls?”

“Hi Artie, this is Dean. He’s my uncle,” Sarie pipes up, holding Dean’s hand, and looking like it’s just another day.

Dean’s impressed with Sarie’s quick thinking and embellishes a little to make it more believable. “Yeah, uh, my step-sister, Ann was just taken to the hospital. From the park, over there. We were just coming back here to drop off all the stuff and then head over.”

“Oh! Well, I’m so sorry to hear that. Just let me know when you need the car ready sir,” Artie says, quickly saluting from the crisp brim of his doorman’s hat.

“Will do, thanks,” Dean says, sketching out a little salute, because he isn’t sure how to end their conversation. Sarie tugs him over towards the elevators.  She pushes the ‘up’ button, and the door opens behind them. Thankfully it is empty, Dean doesn’t want to have to explain his presence to anyone else in this swanky building. Sarie pushes the last button on the list, the 20th floor button, and reaches for her sister’s hand. “We’re almost home, Macky.”

Of course, the top floor, because this Ann woman is apparently made of money or something. A Central Park West penthouse had to be worth several million. Dean keeps his impressed whistle to himself. The elevator rises slowly, then a chime dings pleasantly, doors opening onto a short wood-paneled hallway and an ornately carved front door. “I don’t have the keys, and Sam’s got your mom’s purse.”

“Don’t worry, Babesne will let us in,” Sarie says, standing on tip-toes to push the large brass doorbell.

Dean can hear a deep chiming behind the door, and then quick footsteps. The door opens and a compact, middle-aged woman stands in front of them. Sarie gives her a quick hug and then pushes Macky’s stroller further into the house. The woman’s dark eyes examine him briefly, head to toe, and she brushes her long, black hair back from her face. “So, you are finally here Dean Winchester. I thank you for bringing the girls.”

“Uh hi. You’re Babesne right? That’s what Sarie said,” Dean extends his hand to shake and Babesne eyes it a little warily. She finally takes it and shakes it gently exactly three times.

“Sarie was right, that is my name. And she told me yours, as you are no doubt wondering how I knew,” Babesne says, stepping back to let Dean into the hall.

“Ann is on her way to the hospital. I’m betting you know somehow what happened to her, right?” Dean asks, closing the door behind him.

“I only know that it is likely to be something she ate,” Babesne says, gesturing for Dean to follow her.

Dean follows her down the beautifully decorated hallway into a large kitchen. “Yeah, the container it was in was smoking by the time we got to her.”

“We? You mean your brother, Sam?” Babesne asks, indicating that Dean take a seat at the marble counter.

“Yeah, he’s gone to the hospital with Ann, just in case,” Dean says, easing himself down onto a leather upholstered and wicker bar stool.

“In case of what?” Babesne stops fiddling with the greens in the sink she was washing, looking over at him.

Dean meets her glance and explains, “Whatever else is coming for her. That’s what we do.”

“You’re not just a helper are you?” Babesne asks, wiping her hands off on a deep green linen towel.

“I don’t know what to call myself anymore, but yeah, we help people. With weird stuff like this. So, uh Sarie said you’re their protector? What’s that mean?” Dean asks, poking at the fruit basket in front of him to see if it is real or decorative.

Babesne fills a large teapot with water and sets it on a gleaming stove to heat. “I was assigned to them, by my mother. There’s a long connection between our families, all the way back to before her mother’s, mother’s mother was born. We are here for their girls until they become women.”

“What’s the deal with all the sigils on all their stuff?” Dean asks, wishing he had something to take notes with, then remembering his phone. He pulls it out and starts up the note app he downloaded and has never used.

“They’re part of the protections that I wield. A visible sign you might say,” Babesne answers, pulling out two large, green ceramic mugs from a cabinet and setting them on the counter near Dean.

“But they don’t work for Ann?” Dean asks, wondering if she’s making tea, and if he’ll have to drink it. Sometimes the tea people make for them is really nasty tasting.

“No, unfortunately not. She is out of my power to protect. She was my mother’s charge,” Babesne says, measuring out several spoons filled with dried flowers and herbs into each cup.

“So, it’s an age-limited kinda thing then?”

“Yes, not a specific age, but the protection is needed from birth until they are paired with a mate,” Babesne says pouring the steaming water into each mug.

“What do they need protecting against exactly?” Dean asks, watching as Babesne’s lively face changes into a wall of non-expressiveness. His moment of opportunity is interrupted by his phone informing him of an incoming text from Sam.

__

 

“My brother says they’re over at Mt. Sinai hospital, Ann’s doing a lot better,” Dean says.

“So when you say your brother, you also mean your partner, correct?” Babesne asks, looking at him closely across the creamy grey marble countertop between them.

“Yeah, uh we’ve always worked together,” Dean answers, trying to meet her eye in the hopes that she won’t follow that one up at all.

“I meant life partner,” Babesne clarifies with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Uh. That too, it’s a long story,” Dean says, furious at himself for blushing for being honest, because it’s nobody’s damn business what they are to each other.

“I don’t need to hear it Dean, I do not judge, it is a more common thing among those of us touched by the arcane. Something about no one else ever being able to understand the world behind the world we see unless they’ve experienced it themselves,” Babesne says, voice serious and understanding. She stirs a spoonful of honey into one of the mugs and slides it over to Dean.

Dean looks down into the swirling murk in the cup and then up at this intense woman who’s more right about them than she really knows. “That’s a good way of putting it. I’d rather not tell Ann if you don’t mind.”

“She already heard it from Sarie yesterday, the little one was running around singing a song about the best boyfriends,” Babesne says, the last part a little sing-songyish to imitate Sarie.

“But Sam told Ann were brothers,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ann is much more worried about her girls at the moment, I don’t think she will be upset about it,” Babesne says, sipping at her tea.

“I just don’t like Sam having to hear anything bad about it, he beats himself up enough as it is,” Dean says, raising his tea up to sample it. His face is slightly screwed up in anticipation of bitter, but turns to pleased once he tastes the heady yet soothing blend.

“Don’t you mean you, Dean?” Babesne asks, coming around the counter to sit beside him on another stool.

“Same goes for me, sure,” Dean admits, turning his stool to face her.

“When one is part of a couple of your stature and importance in the arcane world, you get a pass from behavior and rules of the mundane world. As far as I am concerned, your romantic entanglement only strengthens your powers to affect change for the good. Love like yours brings the white to us,” Babesne says, taking a long sip from her mug, eyes never leaving Dean’s face.

Dean wants to ask about how she knows that they’re an important couple whatever that means, but skips it to ask about what he needs to know to help Ann and the girls. “The white?”

“That is what my tradition calls the good or beneficial side of magical dealings. And that is what we need to be attracting to counteract the evil that comes for the girls.”

“You were going to tell me more about this evil, what exactly is it?” Dean asks.

“As you well know, there is no ‘exactly’ in these matters. But, many generations ago, a curse was laid upon their family, specifically the women of their family. The story has been twisted over the years I am sure, but it had to do with a spurned unrequited love of a powerful practitioner. He took it out on the object of his affection by laying a curse that has been passed down all these years. My ancestress was involved and swore her family would protect the girls of this line as long as the curse persisted.”

Before Dean can formulate an answer or even a question, his phone buzzes again.

__

“Sam says that Ann’s getting sprung soon. Can we send the car over to pick them up?” Dean asks.

Babesne nods and produces her own phone out of her apron pocket, she sends a text to someone. “Yes, done. But you are assuming that you’re staying, interesting.”

“Why wouldn’t we be? Seems like you might need some extra help given what just happened to Ann.”

“What is it you think you can do, Dean?” Babesne asks, eyes intense.

“Interrupt the flow of the black, attract the white. How am I doing so far?” Dean asks, grinning at himself.

Babesne cracks her first smile, and then laughs hoarsely, as if she hasn’t used that function in a long time. “Dean you are much more than you appear.”

“So I’ve been told, many times. And not just by Sam for the record,” Dean says, pointing at her to emphasize he means it.

“I am not surprised. But this curse is unbreakable as far as I know.”

“Is it at all related to demons?” Dean asks.

“Yes, but how would you know that?”

“We’ve had way too much up close and personal experience with them, believe me. My brother just recently researched a whole lot about this kind of thing, he might be able to come up with something,” Dean says, rubbing at his forearm where the Mark of Cain used to be, the skin finally his own after all that time. Thanks to Sam and his research.

“I doubt it, but I will assist him in any way possible,” Babesne says.

“Wouldn’t mind putting yourself out of a job huh?” Dean asks.

“No, I would not. I hesitate to have children of my own, knowing that they will just have to serve as I have and my ancestresses before me.”

“You have a partner yourself then?” Dean asks.

“Yes, he works as the driver for the Merrells, you will meet him soon,” Babesne says, her eyes drift towards a door at the end of the long kitchen.

Before he can ask what’s behind door number one that she’s staring at, Dean’s phone chimes again, vibrating on the counter between them.

__

“You texting with Sam?” Sarie asks from behind his chair.

“Uh, yeah, he’s bringing your mom back right now,” Dean says, sheepishly covering up the screen.

“Can I send him a message for my mom?” Sarie asks.

“Sure, you know how to?” Dean asks.

“Duh,” Sarie answers, rolling her eyes and holding out her hand for the phone.

“So, Sarie, how should we welcome your mom home?” Dean asks, slipping the phone into his front jeans pocket.

“Make a big sign and have her favorite food. That’s what daddy did when she came home from the ‘opital with Macky,” Sarie answers.

“Why don’t you show Dean where your paper and markers are and I’ll go make some snacks she’ll like?” Babesne asks.

“C’mon Dean, I’ll race you,” Sarie yells, racing down the long paneled hallway to a room near the end. Dean steps into what has to be the kid’s playroom, it’s outfitted with every toy imaginable and a kid-sized table with a roll of butcher paper mounted on one end. Sarie pulls out a long piece of paper that hangs off the end of the table and sits in a small chair. “I won! Here, sit here with me.” She drags out a teeny chair that’s next to her and points at it.

Dean hesitates, not wanting to break the furniture, but then seeing that it looks to be very sturdily made, he sits down carefully. Sarie’s already drawing, the usual kid type doodles, but then some things that look like the sigils Babesne uses. As he watches her, she draws what looks like a large black chicken.  “Is that a chicken Sarie?”

“Yeah, she’s the Black Pullet, see here’s her golden eggs she lays,” Sarie says, pointing at the yellow ovals she’s drawn below the gawky chicken figure.

“Where’d you learn to draw this chicken?” Dean asks.

“Babesne, she says it’s our _legshe_ , it’s always been ours.”

Dean puzzles for a moment on what she means by _legshe_. “Oh, your legacy, okay. Well it’s super cool, I’m gonna point it out to Sam when he gets here with your mom. He loves chickens,” Dean says.

“He does? Me too! They’re so silly, how they walk around with their heads going,” Sarie says as she does her best seated chicken imitation, head bobbing in and out.

Dean laughs, “Yeah, he does a great chicken dance, you should totally ask him. So what are we writing on this big sign?”  Dean’s phone chimes again, interrupting Sarie’s answer.

__

“Hey we better finish fast, Sam says they’re here already,” Dean says, finishing up the Welcome Home Mommy message. “Do you want to hang this up somewhere?”

Babesne appears with a roll of tape. “Let’s go put up the sign Sarie, quick now, they’re coming.”

“Did they tell you from downstairs?” Dean asks, standing up from the little table.

“No, I can just feel her, part of being a Protector,” Babesne says over her shoulder as she walks down the long hall back towards the front door.

The homemade sign looks very out of place in the grand entry hall across from the front door, but it makes Ann smile when she sees it. Dean can see how tired she is, supported in his brother’s arms, so he takes care of the kids a little bit longer while Babesne and Sam get her settled in her bedroom.

Sam comes back in, and hugs him from behind. “All okay for now,” he whispers in Dean’s ear.

“I’ll make us some dinner, Mr. Merrell is out of town this week, so it’s just us chickens,” Babesne says walking past them towards the kitchen.

“Tell me more about the chickens, the Black Pullet especially,” Dean asks as they follow her into the kitchen.

“Black Pullet? That’s a really famous grimoire,” Sam says, following behind them.

“Not just a grimoire, it’s also what’s called a Seal. One that this family has controlled for a very long time,” Babesne says, bending down to open one of the lower kitchen cabinets.

“So you’re a Protector then?” Sam asks with his usual friendly curiosity that he hopes will work to disarm her enough to open up to him.

Babesne puts down the glass baking dish she’s holding and looks up at Sam, examining him closely. “Yes, I am, Sam. How in the world did you know that?”

Sam sees that she’s going to clam up if he doesn’t explain himself. “Your name, Sarie told us what it meant. So I looked it up while I was waiting in the hospital, and I put it together with the sigils.”

“Thank god for smart phones eh, Sam?” Dean jokes, leaning over to elbow Sam in the ribs.

“So is being a Protector a choice, or are you born into it?” Sam asks with persistence, ignoring Dean’s smart phone comment.

Babesne’s eyes flash at the questions Sam is firing at her. “Both, we are assigned at birth, but there is always choice involved. No one is compelled to perform this job. The magic wouldn’t work if it was that way.”

“Can we help you fix dinner or anything?” Sam offers.

“No, you two will just be in the way, take a beer out of the refrigerator and go sit in the family room, over through there,” Babesne indicates with a toss of her head, the arched doorway into a step-down room. One wall is covered with floor to ceiling bookcases, another with floor to ceiling windows looking out on the park, down far below.  There are overstuffed leather couches arranged in several groupings.  Sam chooses one looking out the windows, and Dean joins him. Dean opens both of the beers with his ring and hands one over. They clink the bottles together and drink silently.

“Can you believe this place Sammy?”

“I don’t think I’ve been anywhere this fancy in my life, it’s kind of amazing,” Sam answers, sounding a little stunned. “Ann seemed so down-to-earth when we met her at the park yesterday, but when they heard her name in the hospital, she got instant upgrades to her service and they were treating her like a queen.”

“Guess they’ve got some money then, huh? Wonder if it has to do with the Black Pullet? Sarie was saying Babesne told her it was her family’s legacy, and she was drawing it laying gold eggs,” Dean says.

“Like the goose that laid the golden egg, except it’s a chicken instead? I guess that could make you pretty damn rich after a few dozen eggs,” Sam muses, taking a long sip of beer.

“You think it’s an honest-to-god chicken though? Like in this ritzy place they’re gonna keep a live chicken even if it is what’s keepin’ ‘em in the penthouse?” Dean laughs at the idea.

“Who knows what the hell rich people do, right? Especially ones with family curses,” Sam answers with a shrug and upends his bottle, finishing off the beer.

“So you had your drink, spill what was the big deal in the hospital?” Dean asks, finishing his own beer, setting it on the glass topped coffee table in front of the couch next to Sam’s. He knows it’s going to be about Ann finding out about them, and he doesn’t want Sam to get himself all twisted up about it.

Sam leans forward and puts his head in his hands. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Dean’s hand goes to Sam’s lower back and rubs what he knows are comforting circles until Sam speaks again. “Ann came to pretty quickly after they gave her some medication. And one of the first things she said after asking if the girls were okay, and thanking us, she said she knows we’re not just brothers. She was cool about it really. But it was embarrassing, like it always is, you know.”

“I had the same with Babesne. They really don’t care apparently, so let’s just move on like they are,” Dean says, hoping he sounds encouraging and final about the subject. Dwelling on something that they can’t change is never a good use of their resources during a case.

“You ever wish we weren’t?” Sam asks, sinking back into the cushy couch and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean puts his arm around Sam and holds him close, wondering how to answer this question that’s been asked and answered so many times. “No, Sammy. Sure it’d be easier in some ways if we weren’t brothers. But it all means more somehow. I can never explain it right. But no, out of all the things I’d consider changing about our lives, you bein’ my brother is never on that list.” Dean can feel Sam’s response before he hears it, Sam’s body releases some held tension, fear at what Dean would answer maybe? Like that’s ever gonna change. “You ever wish we weren’t?” Dean asks, because he has to, not because he really wants to risk hearing what Sam might say this time.

Sam nuzzles his face into Dean’s chest for a few moments before answering. “Just when I have to keep track of who I’ve told which lie to. You’re right it’d just be a convenience thing.  Really not a big deal anymore, it’s been so long now, I can’t imagine it any other way. This time I just didn’t want it to mess up the chance to spend a little time with these kids.”

Taking the chance to pet Sam’s hair, because it always calms them both down, Dean chews on that for a moment. “This is what I was talkin’ about wishin’ I could give you.”

“What a palace like this? Not what I want, Dean,” Sam says, squeezing Dean around his waist a little harder.

“No, not the place, although I sure as hell wouldn’t turn it down if someone gave it to us. I mean the family part. I wish you’d had a chance to have a kid at some point,” Dean says, running his hand up and down the span of Sam’s wide, strong back.

“I’m glad I didn’t ever have a kid. I really am. I mean, I get what you’re saying. But passing on anything that I might still be carrying from the demon stuff is too big of a risk. Borrowing other people’s kids for a while though, that’s pretty awesome as far as I can tell,” Sam says, body going tense in Dean’s arms as he waits to hear Dean’s reaction.

Dean doesn’t respond to the demon residue issue, because that’s one Sam’s never letting go of no matter what anyone tells him, but the rest he can handle. “Or like what I had with Lisa and Ben?”

“I didn’t want to bring them up, but yeah, that seemed kinda ideal in a weird way, he was sorta your kid and yet not,” Sam says.

“Still, if I could give you somethin’ like this I would. Just so you could see what it’s like to be in charge of a kiddo for a while. Teach them all the stuff you think is important. Be a role model, all that.”

“You just want me to see what I’ve been missing all these years huh?” Sam asks.

“No, I just think you’d make someone a really excellent father. Because you are an amazing person,” Dean says, embarrassed as soon as the words leave his mouth.  But all of it’s true, and he reminds himself, they just promised they’d say this stuff to each other.

Sam doesn’t answer him with words then, just leans up and says everything without them, with a kiss that is instantly hot and laden with every emotion they rarely show each other.  They’re only stopped by an ‘ahem’ at the doorway.

“We’ll be eating in about five minutes. Would you like to bring the girls to the table?” Babesne asks with a smirk on her face.

Sam pops up from his wrapped-around Dean position on the couch, and rubs his hands on his pants, blushing a deep pink. “After washing their hands, of course, we’ll meet you there.”  Babesne just nods and winks at Dean before she leaves the room.

“See Sammy, you’ve already got a handle on how to run things,” Dean teases as he stands up and stretches next to Sam.

Sam pulls him in for a quick hug, repeating what he’d said on the street earlier that day. “We’ve always had a home, you made that happen for me, every day.”

“I’m not even gonna bother calling you a big girl, because you’d probably just start crying or somethin’,” Dean teases.

“Just help me find where the heck the real girls are in this giant place,” Sam says, snapping Dean on the back of the neck as he passes him into the hallway.

“Hey! Just for that I’m not helpin’ you, you’re on your own buddy,” Dean says, detouring into the kitchen with the empty beer bottles.

“Where do the empties go?” Dean asks Babesne. “Oh my god that smells amazing!”

Babesne smiles as sets the casserole dish down on the kitchen island counter. “My mother’s recipe. It is Txangurro, a Basque crab casserole. I assumed you weren’t allergic to shellfish.”

“No problem with that, we can pretty much anything,” Dean says. Then he hears the thundering of little feet followed by familiar big ones. Sarie is racing towards him with Sam close behind holding Macky on his hip. Dean smiles to see how his giant brother is acting like the kid he still is with these girls.

“Not bad Sam, just in time. Sarie, would you please show the gentlemen to the table?” Babesne asks.

“C’mon you guys, in here,” Sarie says, leading them into a cozy room off the kitchen that is obviously just for informal dining.  “We get to eat in here since Daddy’s not home.”

“Where do you usually eat?” Sam asks.

“In the big room, but I don’t like it. I get in trouble too much in there,” Sarie says, pouting while she climbs up into her seat.

“Too many rules I bet,” Sam says, as he straps Macky into her high chair and pulls her up to the table.

Sarie’s eyes light up when she sees that Sam understands her problem. “Yeah, that’s it, too many rules, and I just wanna eat and talk and it’s too hard to do all of it once.”

“Well, you’re gonna want to eat this crab stuff Babesne made, it looks wonderful,” Dean says.

“Thank you Dean. Usually I make this in the shells of the crab, but not when I’m serving it to the girls. Too sharp,” Babesne says as she serves up some of the casserole onto Sarie’s plate. “Let it cool off first Sarie, very hot.”

After a pleasant dinner filled with silliness and laughter from both the girls and the brothers, Babesne refuses any help with the dishes but allows that the boys could certainly help with the bedtime routine. But only after she gives the girls their bath. She points them in the direction of the guest room as she bustles the girls further down the hallway.  They enter the room and both stop near the doorway, looking around with wide eyes at the enormous bedroom.

“This is a guest room?” Dean asks. He flops down onto the bed and watches as Sam crosses to the large window. Sam sits down on the window seat and looks out at the city lights going on at dusk.

“It’s so beautiful from up here,” Sam answers, eye never leaving the beautiful view beyond the window.

“What is?” Dean asks.

“The city, the park down there, everything,” Sam says, sounding a little entranced.

Dean gets up and comes to stand behind him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders. “It doesn’t even come close to comparing.”

Before Sam can respond, they hear Babesne holler for them from the girl’s room that it’s time. They reluctantly leave the privacy of this space and head off to see what’s involved in getting the girls to bed.

~~*~~

“Damn I wish I could take a picture of this,” Dean says.

“Go ahead, I won’t tell anyone,” Sam teases.

Dean lets go of Sam’s hips and saunters back to his jeans on the floor and digs out his cell phone. When he turns around and looks he gasps, because this Sam is not one he’s seen before. He looks like a barely contained animal caught in the lights of the city spread out below them. Sam writhes on the window seat cushion. “C’mon Dean, get back over here,” he demands, hand stroking his hard cock.

Dean takes several pictures and tosses the phone somewhere, he doesn’t care where, and stalks back towards Sam. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,”

“Enough talking, fuck me already,” Sam says laughing and arching his back to present himself to Dean.

Dean arranges himself between Sam’s legs and pushes forward into him. “Think anyone can see you Sammy?”

“Don’t care,” Sam says between punched out breaths as Dean speeds up.

“I hope someone does, so they can see you taking me like this, Sammy, so good for me,” Dean purrs.

“Dean, more, please,” Sam whispers.

“Wish you could be loud in here, think of how it would echo with these high ceilings, all your filthy words bouncing around, coming at us from everywhere,” Dean says speeding up his thrusts. “Here, c’mon, stand up. Want you to look out the window, while I make you come.”  He pulls out of Sam with a slick pop and steps back to help Sam up, he bends him over at the waist and pushes back in.

“Oh god that’s good, keep going, right there, Dean,” Sam says in a louder and louder voice.

“Sshhh, Sammy, hush,” Dean says, stroking his lower back in a gentling brush and holding one hand over Sam’s mouth briefly.

That just makes Sam arch his hips up a little more and then Dean is hitting his prostate with each thrust and Sam loses it, writhing on the end of Dean’s cock, thrusting into his closed fist and coming all over the towel they’d put down. Luckily he manages to bite into the window seat cushion, muffling most of his cries of pleasure.  Dean isn’t too long in joining him in window seat bliss, pistoning his hips a few more times as Sam tightens during orgasm. “Still so tight for me after all this time Sammy, god, love you, love fucking you.” He’s still deep inside Sam when they both hear a quiet knock at the door. 

“Sam, Dean, you guys awake? Macky and I heard the noise again,” Sarie says through the door. They separate quickly and a bit painfully. Sam pulls on his boxers, leaps into bed and pulls the covers over himself as Dean yanks up his jeans.

“Just a second Sarie, we’ll be right there,” Dean says. He grins over at Sam as he pulls on an inside-out t-shirt and opens the door. Sarie comes in, holding a weepy, scared looking Macky.  “Can you show me where?  Sam will hold Macky while we go look. Can you be a brave big girl and go in there with me?” Sarie nods and hands her sister over to Dean, he walks her over to settle her in next to Sam on the bed.

Babesne appears in the doorway, a tall shadow lurking behind her. “Dean everything okay?”

“No, uh the girls heard the scratching,” Dean answers before turning around, seeing the indistinct shadow lurking behind her shoulder he yells, “Babesne, get down!”  Babesne drops to the floor like her puppet strings have been cut. Dean throws the fireplace poker across the room at the shadow. A man’s hand catches it at chest level and steps into the light. 

“Why do you throw things at me?” The tall man asks in a heavily accented voice. Dean thinks it’s maybe Spanish.

Babesne gets up slowly with some help from the man.  “Dean, this is my husband, Sergio. No need to throw things at him.”

“Sorry, couldn’t see you in the hallway. Thought you were something else,” Dean answers, coming forward to shake hands.

“Someone else, or something else?” Sergio asks, one dark eyebrow raising as he shakes Dean’s hand. He stalks past Dean into the room and sets the fireplace poker back in the stand.

“Someone,” Dean answers, patting his gun. He passes Babesne, holding onto Sarie’s hand and heading down the hallway with her by his side.

“Sam, do you want me to take Mackenzie?” Babesne asks, giving him the most hairy of hairy eyeballs for his obvious sex-hair and the awkward way he’s making sure to stay under the covers as much as possible.

“No, uh, she’s good here, I’ve got her,” Sam answers, cuddling up the very sleepy Macky next to him the bed. He’s trying not to be embarrassed about how the room must smell, or how both of them must look. He concentrates on the little girl next to him on the pillow instead of meeting Babesne’s eyes. “Nice to meet you, Sergio,” Sam calls out as they leave without closing the door.

“Guess it’s you and me Macky,” Sam whispers, gently brushing the red curls out of Macky’s face, staring with wonder at how translucent her skin seems on her now closed eyelids. He’s glad that she’s sleeping again, dealing with a crying, upset baby on top of everything would be too much to handle. Especially without any pants on.

Down the hall, Dean and Sarie approach the girl’s bedroom. “Okay, kiddo, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll go in, and you stay behind me no matter what. If I tell you to do something, you do it, no questions. Got it?”

“Okay. The sound came from by the big windows. By the one that opens, it was on that side,” Sarie says, pointing to the right side of the bay of windows.

Dean nods and straightens up, shuffling Sarie behind him, they start into the room, and Dean hears a strange scratching near the window, just like the girls had said. It sounds like ten raccoons trying to claw their way in through the window frame. Something like claws screech on the window pane, making him shiver. They move a few more paces closer, then the sound stops. Dean turns back to Sarie, putting his finger to his lips in the universal shhh symbol.   Sarie acknowledges it with the universal zipped lips symbol. Dean raises his gun and quickly opens the window with his left hand.

The curtains billow out in the sudden wind, the room’s air currents disturbed by the sudden gush of hot summer night air. Dean leans out into the window to peer out onto the ledges on either side. Something slashes at him as he’s pulling his head back in, snagging his ear and tearing into the side of his head. “Ahh!” Dean yells, taking a step back to get away from his attacker, bumping into Sarie.  She falls down on her bottom with a soft thud, but makes no other sound, crab-walking backwards to get out of Dean’s way.  By now, Dean has fired a shot out the window in the direction of where the attack came from. He hears an impact sound, and then some departing scratching, scuttling noises. He strains to see in the dim night, and all he can catch a glimpse of is a man-sized shape moving away from the window and disappearing from view around the corner. He yanks the window closed and latches it.

“Go check on Sam and Macky,” Dean says, ushering her out the door and towards the guest room. Once he hears her greet Sam, he runs straight down the hallway, heading into the living room. He finds a balcony door that’s open and glides through it, out of the corner of his eye he sees the creature or whatever it is, heading straight down the building at a blinding speed, disappearing down in the dark after a few stories. Dean comes in off the balcony and locks the door behind him, running back to the guest room where the girls hopefully are still safe with Sam.

“Sam, you okay?” Dean hollers as he runs towards their room. He hears a muffled giggle from Sam and smiles at the sound.

“Fine Dean, just got attacked by a tickle monster, that’s all,” Sam answers, covered in Sarie, desperately trying to keep the covers over his still mostly naked body. He looks up and sees Dean’s head, blood still dripping down his neck.  Dean meets his eyes and nods a head in Sarie’s direction indicating he’s going to go clean up before she sees the goriness. This was already scary enough for her tonight. Down the hall two doors is a large bathroom where Dean cleans up as best as he can, holding a soaked towel to his head. Luckily the towel is a deep maroon, plush and soft, so it’s soaking up the blood flow and disguising it. 

“I’m gonna go check on Babesne and Ann,” Dean says as he sticks his head in the door.  Sam nods in acknowledgment and cuddles both now sleeping girls closer. Dean stops for a moment to take it in, the sight of his bare-chested brother holding Sarie on one side in the crook of his arm, her head pillowed on his bicep, other arm curved around Macky where she sleeps on the pillow. Sam’s got a peaceful smile, even though his eyes hold a look of worry.  “I’m okay, don’t worry,” Dean says in answer to the silent question.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sam asks in a whisper.

Dean shakes his head, because he can’t say it, not out loud at least. _I wish you could have this for real Sammy, I wish I could have it with you somehow._ He tries again to send the gist of his thought through his expression, and by the way Sam’s face changes, Dean guesses most of the message got through okay.

Dean checks on the still-sleeping Ann and heads to the kitchen guessing Babesne must still be awake.  He hears clattering, and water filling something that was empty. She’s making tea again. “Hey, uh, everyone is okay. You and Sergio alright? Hope I didn’t hurt him with the poker,” Dean says.

Babesne turns to look at him, her eyes red-rimmed with anguished tears, they open in fear when she sees the blood on Dean’s head.  “Ay yi, your head Dean, come here,” Babesne says, gesturing for him to step to the sink.  She takes the towel out of his hand and turns his head to the light.  “Something got you bad, we need to clean it.”  She bustles around for a while, grabbing some alcohol out of the liquor cabinet, and pushing at his back to get him to bend over the sink while she pours it over the open slash marks.  Dean hisses and grips the edge of the sink until his knuckles go white.  Dabbing at the cuts with the towel, she puts his hand back onto it. “Hold this tight, I’m going to mix you up something that will help. Stay here, don’t track blood around my clean house,” Babesne says, disappearing out through another door that leads to her living quarters.

Dean catches a glimpse of a riot of colors and patterns on the walls and furniture and a man sitting in a dark recliner side-lit by the blue glow of a TV.  He hears a snatch of conversation between them, mostly drowned out by a TV program with lots of gunshots, seems like Sergio missed all the real-life excitement after the whole fireplace poker catching.  She soon returns with a small blue ceramic bowl and another towel. “Come sit so I can reach you better,” she says, tapping the back of one of the kitchen table chairs with the bowl.  Dean pushes off from his lean against the counter and lowers himself with a groan into the chair, any movement making the wounds throb with the feeling of all his blood wanting to escape _nownownow._

“This happen to you a lot?” Babesne asks, obviously trying to distract him from the pain of her applying a pungent smelling paste to the wounds.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean answers through gritted teeth, determined that he’s not going to make a noise, or show how much this hurts.

“These are deep, you probably really should have stitches, but I know you won’t go to the hospital right now, and tomorrow will be much too late to help. The salve I put on you will work, by morning you should be okay.”

“Thanks, uh…for the help,” Dean says, trying to relax a little now that she seems to be mostly done. Then she lifts up the back of his shirt without warning, drawing some design with a wet finger on his skin, mumbling what sounds like Latin.  “What was that?” he asks.

“Think of it like the activator for the salve, it starts it working like it’s supposed to,” she answers, setting the bowl on the table between them.  Dean peers into it, nose wrinkling up in disgust as he smells it too closely.  He’s not going to try and guess what all is in this stuff, but at least it seems to have stopped the bleeding. Head wounds always bleed the most, it’s going to be a bitch to get all the blood out of his hair tomorrow.  Babesne turns to the counter to fiddle with her tea.

“I’m gonna go get the girls back into their beds. Night,” Dean says, leaving quickly, because he doesn’t want her saying any more Latin over him, or touching his skin. He shivers a little remembering the cool wetness of her finger drawing the shape on him, can feel the containing circle still tingling under his shirt.  He gets to the door of their room and sees that they’re all deeply asleep, and doesn’t have the heart to move them. But he notices that there is not much room left on the bed for him.  He tucks both of the girls under the covers and changes quickly into sleep pants and a new non-bloody t-shirt and gets in on his side of the bed.

Dean has to scoot Macky over a little to get enough of his pillow uncovered to lay his head down on a folded-up towel just in case the bleeding starts again. He covers Sam’s hand that’s on Macky’s back with his own. Sam stirs and turns towards him slightly but doesn’t wake up. In the light from the hallway Dean can see his brother’s profile, his face so relaxed and young in sleep like always. But there’s a curve to his smile that hasn’t been there for a long time, and it’s from spending time here with these kids. He falls asleep thinking about ways to get Sam more kid-time in the future since it seems to be so good for him.

~~*~~

“Where’s Ann this morning?” Dean asks as sits down at the kitchen counter in the same bar stool as yesterday.

“She was feeling much better, so she’s gone to Connecticut for the day, one of her charity fund-raising events. A high tea I believe. She won’t be back until late afternoon.”

“Do you mind if Sam and I look around, do our Helper thing?”

“Yes, that’s why you’re here, get to it. Sarie will be back from pre-school at noon, so you have a few hours without interruption.”

“Where’s Macky?”

“Down for her morning nap, she’ll be up in about an hour,” Babesne says, setting a china plate with some layered egg concoction on it.

“Guess we kinda missed out on everything this morning, can’t believe we slept through the kids waking up.”

“You had an exciting night. We’re early risers, that’s a household with children for you,” Babesne says, laying a fork down next to the plate.

“Man, I remember those days. Sam used to be up with the sun when he was little. And if he was even there, my dad wouldn’t get up, he drank a lot back then. So I got to try and keep a toddler quiet at 5:30 AM to not wake him up,” Dean says, starting to eat the eggs and falling into his memories.

“How old were you?” Babesne asks, pouring a cup of coffee into one of the green mugs and setting it in front of him.

Dean wraps his hand around the mug with a grateful sigh. “Uh, guess I was almost five.”

Babesne shakes her head and clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “It is hard to imagine Sarie taking care of Macky as you did for Sam. I can see why Sam would say what he did to Ann the day you met them in the park. He said that you were the best thing in his life, and I believe it. He has been very lucky to have you as his older brother.”

“I uh, well he wouldn’t agree with you a lot of the time. And he’s the reason I’m still even here talking to you, if he hadn’t saved me, over and over again, gave me a reason to keep going the rest of the time, I pretty much just wouldn’t be alive. You know how people say they have their own internal North Star, he’s mine.”

“I will say the same thing to you that Ann asked Sam yesterday. Does your brother know that, what you just told me? Does he really know that’s how you feel about him, how you describe to someone else what he means to you?”

“I’m gonna go ahead and guess no,” Dean says, sipping at his coffee to briefly hide his face, knowing it is probably guilty.

“You know what you need to do, correct?”

“Yes ma’am, I do,” Dean says with a nod.

“Let me know if you two find anything, or if I can help you’re investigating. I’m here to keep the girls safe, and I need to be involved,” Babesne says, turning back to the sink and the rest of the dishes.

Knowing he has been dismissed, Dean makes a quick exit out of the kitchen with a full coffee cup and a plateful of eggs for Sam and him to share. He heads back in to the guest room they were assigned and finds him still under the covers, but at least his eyes are open, staring out at the blue summer morning Manhattan skyline.

“You ready to get going on this?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. I just crashed so hard last night. Something about the post-adrenaline of the whole CPR and hospital, all that caught up with me. Why’d you let me sleep in so late?”

“I’ve only been up myself for like twenty minutes. How’s the shoulder doing?” Dean asks.

“Still sore, not worse though. You know how old injuries are when they get aggravated,” Sam answers, twisting and stretching the injured arm gently.

“But not worse, though. That’s a good sign right?” Dean asks.

“I guess. Uh, that coffee for me?” Sam asks, reaching for it with a hopeful expression he knows will work even if it’s really Dean’s coffee.

Dean hands over the mug with an exaggerated eye roll. “Look, mugs, not china cups and saucers, but the plate is china.”

“They’re like real people or something,” Sam teases.

“So, uh, everyone is gone, except for Babesne who told me to make you eat breakfast and Macky, who is taking her nap for maybe another hour. So if we want the place quiet while we’re searching, we oughta get a move on.”

“Wow, we actually slept in, on a job. When has that ever happened?” Sam asks, sitting up and starting in on consuming the eggs.

“I’m blaming it on the bed. That’s gotta be the nicest thing I’ve ever slept on.”

“No kidding. If we ever have a place again, where we stay and live for a while, we need one of these beds,” Sam says, pulling back the covers and standing up to find where his jeans landed last night.

“I think the word you were searching for there was ‘home’, Sam.”

Sam stops in the middle of pulling his jeans up. “I know. But it means two different things to you and me, and I was trying to be more accurate.”

Dean doesn’t answer that, because what he wants to say would take way too long, and not come out right anyway. But it reminds him of what Babesne was just bugging him about, what he needs to make sure Sam knows. That will probably be a long conversation, knowing Sam, so he decides to put it off.

As they search through the public areas of the penthouse, carefully examining objects and opening doors, running the EMF over everything, Dean’s still thinking of how to bring it all up to Sam.

“Hey you okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, just hoping the batteries last on this thing. This place is bigger than I thought,” Dean answers.

“Just, you have that look you make when something’s really bothering you,” Sam says.

Dean sets down the EMF meter and leans against the office desk. “Well, it’s something Babesne said this morning, and I’m trying to work it out.”

“About the Black Pullet or the girls?” Sam asks, coming over to sit in the desk chair, looking up at his brother.

“No, not about them. About you. We kinda talked about it, that first day in the park,” Dean says, knowing that he’s stalling and being dumb about this. Sam won’t tease him, so why’s this shit so hard to talk about? He grabs the back of his neck with one hand and rubs the skin until he maybe feels a little better.

Sam sees his brother’s self-comforting tell and sits up straighter in the chair. He leans forward and puts his hands on Dean’s knees, rolling closer with the chair. “Just spit it out, Dean.”

“We were talking about you and I said how I’m the lucky one to have you, not the other way around. That you’re the reason I’m still here since you keep savin’ my ass over and over. I got real mushy, even called you my North Star, said you were the reason I keep going. She asked me if you knew all that, and I thought you might not. So now you know,” Dean finishes, spreading his hands out like he’s giving Sam a present. 

Sam looks up at him and smiles. “I didn’t know. Like you said the other day, I hoped it was how you felt. It…uh, it feels really good to hear it from you. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Can we get back to work now?” Dean asks, hoping Sam will just let it be for a while.

“Yeah, yeah. Chick-flick over with for today,” Sam agrees with a quick nod, letting go of Dean’s legs and standing up, yet still in Dean’s space. He leans in to steal a quick kiss that reminds Dean of last night, when Sam was in the window before they’d gotten down to business. It’s cute that he thinks he’s actually stealing kisses that Dean would gladly give him.

After a thorough examination of the many rooms of the penthouse, they’ve only found one thing of interest. A locked safe in what looks to be the office or study. It was the only thing giving off any EMF, but the reading was quite high.

Sam brings his breakfast plate and empty mug to the sink where Babesne is washing some artichokes.

“Hey, uh, thanks for saving me breakfast. That was one of the best frittatas I’ve ever had. So, we checked the whole place out, and have a question about the safe in the office. Would it be possible to get that opened?”

“Yes, of course. But I do not have the combination. It will have to wait until Ann returns this afternoon,” Babesne answers, drying her hands on her apron.

“One last question, there was one door, looked like an exterior one, maybe a stairwell, but it was locked, we need to get that opened,” Sam says.

“That’s the penthouse roof access door. We keep it locked because of the girls, it’s quite safe up there, but the Merrell’s think it’s better to not tempt fate. Although I tell them of course that is not how it works, but do they listen?” She asks, untying her apron and hanging it on a hook in what Sam now knows is the broom closet.

“Do you have a key for that so we can go up and check it out?” Sam asks.

Babesne is about to answer when the kitchen wall phone rings loudly between them. She steps over to answer it and her face goes white as she leans heavily against the counter’s edge. “Thank you officer. Yes, we will be there soon. Which hospital again? Thank you sir,” Babesne hangs up and sits heavily into one of the kitchen chairs, head in her hands.

Sam is at her side with a comforting hand on her shoulder in a heartbeat. “What happened?”

“The van, it was a drunk driver. My husband. Ann. Both were just flown to a hospital.”

Sam’s heart sinks as he realizes, _the sigil on the van, the one that Macky noticed. We didn’t check it yesterday because of Ann and everything, but it’s got to be connected._   “Are they going to be alright?” Sam asks, because Babesne doesn’t need to think about that at the moment.

“The policeman said he didn’t have details beyond it being serious in one case and not as bad in the other, but he was not sure which of them, I have to go, Sam. I have to go right now. He needs me.”

“What can we do? Do you want one of us to drive you, and one of us to stay here with Macky?” Sam asks, squeezing Babesne’s arm to get her attention and hopefully comfort her somehow. Even though Sam’s had enough of those kind of phone calls for more than one person to bear, he knows another person’s presence and sympathy do actually help.

“I’m not sure. I just need to get there,” Babesne says, sounding breathless and totally lost.

Sam realizes she’s in no state to make decisions and finds Dean in the girl’s playroom. “Dean, there’s been an accident. Sergio and Ann are in the hospital, I’m going to take Babesne there. You okay with Macky alone, or do you think we all should go together?”

Dean looks up from examining a stack of Sarie’s drawings. “Uh, let the kid sleep, it’s gonna be crazy enough. Someone needs to be here when Sarie gets home from school anyway, otherwise we’d have to pull her out, and that would just delay getting to the hospital, so you guys go. I’ll be fine here.”

“Day two of me hanging out in hospitals and you babysitting. Starting to seem like a pattern yet?” Sam says, starting to head back to find Babesne.  Dean is all of a sudden holding him from behind and whispering in his ear.

“It’ll be okay. Just get back here safe,” Dean says, letting Sam go.

Sam turns and brushes their lips together like he’s answering Dean’s unsaid questions and also making a promise to return safely.  Dean doesn’t hear from him until after Macky’s woken up from her early afternoon nap, and he’s trying to coax her into eating some fruit and yogurt for a snack. His phone buzzes on the table with a message from Sam.

Sam doesn’t get an answer back to that for a little bit, then his phone starts downloading a picture of a yogurt covered Macky and Dean grinning. He shows it to Ann who laughs, stopping when the pain is too much from her broken ribs. Babesne decides to come back with them as Sergio is going to be under sedation until at least noon the next day.  The evening passes uneventfully, with the girls subdued and serious because of all the worry surrounding their mother. They go to bed without protest, especially when Sam and Dean promise to check in on them and leave the door open.

Sitting in the library or family room, the one that’s not formal, comfortable on the couch with some mugs of tea that Dean’s insisted on adding whiskey to, Babesne stares out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the twinkling night skyline. She finally sighs and turns to face both of them and nods as if she knows words need to be exchanged.

Sam interrupts the silence with some questions he’s been holding onto since they returned from the hospital. “I don’t understand why the attacks are on Ann? Is it because she’s vulnerable because she has no Protector now, or is it just to get to the girls through her somehow?” Sam asks.

“I cannot say,” Babesne says with obvious reluctance.

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean asks, a hard edge in voice.

“Can’t. Because I do not know. Good night, Dean,” she says with finality, standing up from her perch on the upholstered chair, she turns to Sam and with a smile she clasps his hand briefly. “Thank you Sam for your help today.”

~~

Left alone in the now quiet apartment, they check all the doors and windows once again and head for the bathroom that’s closest to their guest room.

“So I guess the bad guy isn’t Sergio after all, huh?” Sam says through his mouthful of toothpaste.

“Were we suspecting him?” Dean asks.

Sam bumps him out of the way and spits and rinses. “Well, I was a little, just because of the sigil that the girls said was on the van. But we hadn’t checked it out yet, and now the thing is totaled.”

“Tell me you’re not feeling guilty about this,” Dean says with exasperation, gesturing with his toothbrush.

“A little, maybe. I just feel like we’re supposedly “Helper’s” and we’re not doing a whole lot of helping,” Sam answers with a shrug, wiping the toothpaste off the mirror that Dean just flung around.

Dean glares at him and finishes brushing, once his mouth is unoccupied he answers, “Ann wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you giving her CPR, the girls would have been all alone in the park with their mom dead on the ground if we weren’t there for them, we are helping. Just not as completely as we’d like to, okay?”

“Fine, whatever. Where’d you put my bag?”

“Oh you’re welcome your highness for bringing it in for you. It’s over there,” Dean answers, pointing at a side chair next to a mahogany dresser. “You’re getting’ used to the high life already aren’t you?”

“Yeah, kinda. I mean I did just drive to Connecticut and back in a Bentley,” Sam says, knowing exactly how jealous Dean is going to be.

“Dude! You didn’t even tell me. That’s just cold,” Dean complains.

“Pipe down, I took some pictures when I was waiting at the hospital. It’s quite a car, there was some really beautiful wood trim inside, the leather seats were so soft and adjustable a million ways, and it drives so smooth,” Sam says, trying so hard not to grin at the jealousy passing over Dean’s face.

“That is so not fair. I was hanging out with the girls wiping yogurt out of my head wound. Then when we had our little expedition to go get my baby from where we parked her it took like an hour to even get out of the house.”

“Did you guys walk all the way down there?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to deal with drivers or taxis with the car seat issue, so I loaded up that stroller contraption with both of ‘em and we hiked it. Sarie talked my ear off the whole way, especially when I was trying to park Baby downstairs in the garage. It’s tight down there.”

“Now that’s what we need pictures of. Dean Winchester pushing a double stroller on the streets of Manhattan,” Sam says, unable to repress the giggle that’s pushing its way out of him. 

Dean frowns at him for a long moment and then lets loose with his own laugh.  “It was pretty ridiculous. But fun in its own way. Brought back memories, ya know?”

Sam’s heart sinks at the way Dean’s voice changes when he says the word memories. Because he could be thinking of strollers in relation to a baby he never got to have or their parents or even himself. “Please tell me you didn’t push me in a stroller.”

“What? No way. We didn’t have room in the Impala for one. We did have a backpack for you though. You got too big for it before I was big enough to haul your ass around though. That was all up to dad.”

“Well what were you thinking of about stroller memories then? It’s okay if you don’t want to say,” Sam hedges, knowing it’s probably mom related.

Dean wiggles down further under the covers and wraps his legs around Sam’s like he needs the connection before he answers. “I remember wishing we had one for you, like all the other families seemed to. I was obsessed with them for a while, and I remember having a big fight with Dad about how you needed one. But he was right, our life just wasn’t stroller compatible.”

“Oh Dean,” Sam says, overwhelmed with such a deep feeling of sadness for that little boy fighting for what his baby brother needed.

Dean disengages their legs and rolls over to face the door. “That right there is why I never tell you this stuff. I can’t take the pity dude, cut it out. What’s done is done,” He says in a closed-off voice.

Sam lays there on his back, feeling like he’s made a bad situation even worse, just like always. He rolls over on his side to face Dean. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Not pity Dean, compassion. I’m just sad for little you, having to worry about all that taking care of babies stuff when you were just a little guy yourself. I know what’s done is done. But that little guy is part of you and I care about how he was treated. Does that make sense?”

Dean doesn’t answer for a while, and for a minute Sam thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then a big sigh bursts out of him, sounding rough and broken. Sam takes a chance that it’s safe to pull him into his arms and hold him without any other words being said.

They’re awoken several hours later by a yelling Sarie and Macky, the sound getting closer rapidly as Sarie bursts in. “The noise is happening again. And it sounds louder and the window started moving up this time,” she says in a rapid fire terrified voice, her eyes huge, Macky’s face buried in her sister’s neck like she’s trying to hide from everything.

Dean’s already out the door, jeans pulled on in a flash, raising his gun before Sam’s around the bed, so he stays with the girls again. Getting them up on the bed and tucked under the covers to stay warm and feel safer.  
“Is Dean gonna be okay this time, Sam?” Sarie asks with a trembling lip.

Sam lies as convincingly as he can ever manage with kids. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. We all will be, just try and be calm, it’ll help your sister.”

“Macky says this time is different,” Sarie says with a sad voice.

“Did she say different how?” Sam asks as Babesne comes in the room.

“That it’s bigger and stronger, that it might get in,” Sarie says, obviously on the edge of crying.  Babesne comes over and sits on Dean’s side of the bed.

“You go, Sam. I need to do my job, and he needs you more,” she says, indicating the doorway with a nod of her head. 

Sam gets up and loads his gun. “I will be right back. You sit tight here.” 

Sarie just looks up at him with big sad eyes and nods. Macky waves a chubby fist, but Sam can’t tell what that means, and Sarie isn’t translating this time.

Sam runs down the hallway to the girl’s bedroom, speeding up faster when he hears Dean’s angry cursing. He skids into the room and sees his brother being pulled out the window which has been completely shattered, large pieces of glass litter the hardwood floor. “Dean!” he yells, crossing the room in a heartbeat and firing at the shape that is on the ledge outside the window. After taking several rounds in the chest, the creature’s claws (hands?) suddenly let go of Dean and it is out of sight in an impossibly quick amount of time. Sam drops his gun to grab onto the back of Dean’s legs barely preventing him from taking a header out the window. Sam braces himself against the wall and hauls Dean back in, both of them falling back onto the floor in the midst of all the glass.

Neither of them speak for a moment, and then they turn their heads to look at each other. Sam is first to speak, only because Dean is still marshalling his energy to deal with the pain from the attack. Seeing the pain flickering across Dean’s face before he hides it, Sam asks, “Where are you hurt?”  He doesn’t ask are you okay, because Dean would just say ‘yeah’, he asks for specifics in the hopes that maybe Dean will give him a straight answer instead of running around bleeding all over the place.

“Back of my legs, and I think some of the glass cut my back,” Dean answers in a shortened breath ending in a wheeze.

“Stay still, let me get up, and then I’ll help you,” Sam orders.  He sits up slowly to avoid jostling the broken glass they’re lying on top of. Sam stands up in stages, carefully placing his hands remembering the cut on the palm of his hand that never healed. Finally he’s vertical and is able to shake the glass off his back. He leans down and grabs Dean’s outstretched hands. “On three I’ll pull you up, one, two, three,” Sam says, smoothly pulling Dean up to standing. Dean groans and swears and the glass shards fall off in a dramatic crash. Sam retrieves his gun off the floor.  “So, uh what happened?”

“You just saved me from being a red stain on the sidewalk twenty stories down, that’s what,” Dean answers.

“Before that,” Sam says with a smile, getting an arm around Dean’s waist to support him as they start walking out of the room. He shuts the door behind them to block out the noise of the hot night wind coming in the broken window.

“I heard the noise again, but like the kiddos said, it was a whole lot louder this time, the thing got its claws under the window and yanked it up. That’s when it broke, the thing’s arms went through the window when the window moved so suddenly. Pretty sure it didn’t mean to do that. And then I guess it was mad because I was there, so it grabbed me and started trying to yank me over the edge.”

“We’ve got to go see how the girls are, can you make it that far?” Sam asks, slowly walking them down the long hallway.

“Where are they?”

“Our room, with Babesne I hope,” Sam answers.

“I don’t want them to see the blood,” Dean says.

Sam looks behind them at Dean’s back and lower down, the jeans are shredded open from the thighs down, as well as his skin, and big claw marks are on either side of his hips. “Damn. I liked those jeans,” Sam says, trying to distract Dean from the pain.

Babesne calls out, “We are fine in here, just take care of him. Supplies are in my bathroom.” She’s obviously overhead them and is trying to protect the girls from seeing Dean’s injuries as well.

Sam supports his brother through the kitchen and into Babesne’s living space, finding a tidy blue and white tiled bathroom that’s well-stocked with what he needs to take care of Dean. “There, that little blue bowl, that’s the stuff she put on my head last time the thing got me. But she said some words that activated it or whatever,” Dean says.

“Well, I’ll leave that for after I’ve disinfected everything,” Sam says, while he wonders what the hell is in the magic formula, it might be a good thing to add to their first-aid kit. He helps Dean into the tub and leans him against the wall, still barely standing, and sits himself on the edge. Sam reaches up to undo Dean’s jeans, and he doesn’t react at all, no jokes, not even a twitch, that’s when Sam knows it’s worse than he thought. He pulls the remains of the jeans off and helps Dean step out of them, throwing them into the trash can. They’re not anywhere near mendable.

“Okay Dean, I have to wash the blood off, ready?” Sam asks, hand on Dean’s flank to steady him. Dean grunts almost inaudibly and Sam runs the water over Dean’s legs with the hand-held shower spray.  Over the sound of the water, Sam can hear his sharp intake of breath and a few whimpers. The blood swirls as it mixes with the water, always such a beautiful color which maybe makes him weird, given his addiction issues, but he rationalizes to himself that it’s because it’s part of Dean, and that’s why it’s beautiful.   Sam sees that the scratches are in two main areas, several inches long in twin parallels and jagged, so they can’t be stitched.  “Don’t think it’s deep enough for stitches, but it’s got to get disinfected, here it comes, hold onto me if you need to,” Sam says, ready for him to grab hold, but Dean doesn’t, he just clenches his fists tighter against the shower tile wall, shivering slightly with the effort to hold himself up. “Okay, all done. Can you sit here while I go ask Babesne about the magic words?” Sam asks, folding a towel and setting it on the edge of the tub. Dean sits slowly with some assistance, he grasps Sam’s hand briefly before letting him go.

After the words are said and the salve is working, Dean’s injuries are covered in bandages and Sam helps him into some sweats. They make their way back through the still-dark hallway and back into their guest room. Babesne is curled up on top of the covers with the girls tucked in, snuggled up together. They’re thankfully solidly asleep again. Babesne carefully gets up and meets them at the door. “It might be safer if they slept in here again tonight,” she says. “Thank you again, you are more than Helpers, just as Mackenzie said you were.”

“Just doing our job,” Sam says, helping Dean into his side of the bed.

She speaks some words and draws a sigil on their door in some oil she must have had in her pocket. Then she quietly closes the door with a wink. 

*~*~*

“Ann, goddammit! Ann where are you! Someone’s parked in my space downstairs. This giant old boat of a car. Call security for me. No, call Sergio!” a very tall and very incensed man who has to be Eric Merrell yells down the dark, early-morning quiet hallway.

Dean was only lightly sleeping because of the itching feeling of his injuries healing up underneath the salve, so he’s the first one that gets up. He pops his head out of the guest room doorway, “Sorry Mr. Merrell, I’ll go move my car, we thought you were coming back this afternoon.”

“Who the hell are you? What the fuck are you doing in my house?” The man yells, gesturing with his leather-gloved hands in an increasingly threatening manner.  His pale blue eyes are wide in anger but red-rimmed as if he’s been around a lot of smoke, his white-blond hair looks a bit wild and wind-blown.

“Name’s Dean. Dean Winchester, nice to meet ya. We’ve been staying here with your family, helping out,” Dean says, stepping forward with his hand out to shake.

Eric just looks at the outstretched hand and pretty much growls.

An unsteady Ann arrives, interrupting the non-reciprocation standoff her husband is waging. She’s holding her body very stiffly around her broken ribs like she’s trying to protect herself.  “Dean, can you please go move your car. I’ll explain to Eric. Make sure to ask Babesne to give you what I found for her,” Ann says, giving Dean a pleading look. She turns to focus on her husband. “Please, honey. Quiet down now, or you’ll wake the girls. It’s very early,” she pleads.

“Okay Ann, if you’re sure you’ll be alright,” Dean says, wary at leaving her alone with this raging man who is looking like he wants to take somebody apart piece by piece. She’d been so medicated that she hadn’t even been awakened last night during all the fracas.

Eric tosses him the car keys as he passes. “There better not be any scratches.”

Dean’s lip curls in disgust at this awful man. “No problem-o sir.”  As he leaves he hears a snatch of their conversation where Ann tells him about Sergio being in the hospital and their car crash.  _The man better be a little more understanding when he gets back or there are going to be at least some words exchanged_ Dean mutters to himself.

When Dean re-enters the penthouse, the first thing he hears is crying, it sounds like all hell is breaking loose, but it’s just the girls. But he sees that they have good reason to be screaming, their father is dragging their mother through the now-unlocked mystery door that leads to the roof.  Sam and Babesne are nowhere in sight, and the girls are hovering at the doorway of the guest room they slept in the last two nights with Sam and Dean.

“Stay there girls!” Dean shouts as he runs towards the roof door.  Ann doesn’t look like she’s even conscious, she’s not struggling at all as her husband drags her by the arms up the short staircase. 

Dean can see the early morning sky just starting to go blue after the dawn as he dashes forward to try and stop Eric.  He first tries calling out, “Hey Eric! Mr. Merrell stop, she’s hurt!”

The man looks down the stairs at him, and Dean’s blood runs cold, the eyes are not the pale blue he’d noticed a few minutes ago when they met. No, Eric’s eyes are the same eerie green that Dean saw a glimpse of last night as he was getting hauled out the window. The man that is now a creature growls at him, baring long fangs, its claws gripping into Ann’s shoulders.  Dean leaps up a few steps and is barely able to reach Ann’s feet, grabbing onto them before it can haul her off the top of the stairs. The creature is too strong, so her limp body stretches taut between them. Dean lets go of her ankles by degrees and lowers her feet down. The creature snarls at him again, eyes flashing even greener, its terrible fangs grinning in triumph and pulls her off the staircase, quickly disappearing up onto the roof.

Dean dashes up the rest of the stairs after them and pulls his gun. He shoots at the creature, which is still dragging Ann by the shoulders. All the bullets hit, but do nothing except make the thing angry. It drops Ann on a patio bench and roars at him, claws extending in threat.  Dean charges forward, leaping at its midsection for a tackle, hoping to be able to at least take the thing down. The creature and Dean fall to the tiled floor, tangled up in a parody of an embrace. The thing slashes at him with claws and fangs, Dean punches it in the head as many times as he can manage. But it suddenly raises up and head-butts him hard.  Dean lies there, stunned, trying to get up and keep fighting like he knows he needs to. But it’s standing above him swinging a piece of cement bench and then all he sees is black, and stars and then nothing.

Sam comes to, groggy with the spell or whatever it was that the girl’s father had used on him. He looks around the room, he’s still on the bed, Babesne next to him, still zonked. The girls though, they’re at the edge of the doorway, because Babesne had told them whatever they did not to go past the sigil on the door. “Sam! You waked up! He took mommy, he took her, Sam!” Sarie yells.

Before he realizes it, he’s out of the bed, shaking his head to try and clear it a little, focusing on the distress of the two little girls in front of him. Sarie is vibrating with fear and anger. “I’m sorry, Sarie, he did something to us. Okay, where did he go?”

“The roof, up to the roof. And Dean came, and I heard a snarl and a thud, then nothing. Macky says Dean is asleep too, just like Mommy,” Sarie says, holding Macky close to her and petting her hair to soothe her.

Babesne wakes up and sits up slowly. She hands Sam a paper with a sigil and some words.  “Use this on it, has to be on the forehead, while you say the words,” she says in a weak voice, falling back onto the bed.

“Where did you find this?” Sam asks as he checks his gun.

“Ann found it. It was in the office safe. That’s why he had it locked up, it’s got to be the only thing that will work on him. It’s very close to one I’ve tried before,” Babesne answers.

“You guys stay here with Babesne, okay?” Sam says to a wide-eyed Sarie. He gently touches Macky’s head. “It’ll be okay, I’ve got this.” 

As Sam walks down the long hallway, he silently reads the words written below the sigil that he needs to chant, _“Hocatos, Imorad, Surater, Markila”._ He murmurs them to himself repeatedly as he stalks towards the open door. The fresh smell of pre-dawn morning in the city is flooding down the stairs. Sam slowly ascends, checking for any signs of struggle. As he nears the top, he hears nothing but distant city noises, but sees what has to be the edge of Dean’s bare foot almost dangling into the opening of the staircase.  Adjusting his eyes to the early morning light Sam peers over the edge and sees Eric writing something in chalk on the slate tile floor. He’s pushed all the furniture out of the way to make a big space, and Ann is lying on one of the patio benches, her arm hanging down limply. _So she’s out of it too._

He wraps a hand around Dean’s bare ankle, feeling for a pulse. It’s there, steady but weak. Sam creeps past his brother’s inert body, slowly coming closer to Eric.  He takes time to calculate how he can best possibly have a chance to hold the sigil to this thing’s forehead while the words are said. It seems like taking him by surprise is the only plan available. Eric doesn’t seem to be paying attention to anything else, as he keeps drawing what looks like a somewhat similar sigil to the one on the paper Sam holds, just greatly enlarged. Large enough to contain a body, which is what he does when he throws down the chalk, hoists Ann up like a sack of potatoes and dumps her in the middle of the inscribed circle. 

Hiding behind the outdoor wet-bar, Sam can hear Eric chanting some words and watches as claws appear to replace his fingers. Before Eric can have time to use them on Ann, Sam takes his chance and steps forward, quickly slapping the paper onto Eric’s forehead and holding it as still as he can with the other arm around his neck in a sleeper hold. Now is the time to be glad for his large hands and the strength of his arms. He’s barely able to hold him as he spits the words out as quickly as possible, “ _Hocatos, Imorad, Surater, Markila.”_

The creature that was formerly Eric Merrell goes rigid as stone, his eyes widen to an impossible size and the claws at the ends of his fingers seem to grow even longer. They are the only thing he can seem to move and he slashes them into Sam’s sides. Sam gasps and says the words again more clearly, “ _Hocatos, Imorad, Surater, Markila.”_

It howls, an inhuman and massive sound that seems to change the air pressure around them. It lets up suddenly, Sam’s ears pop and he can’t hear anything for a moment. But the creature crumbles to pieces in his arms, the claws dug into his side go to powder. The debris falls all over Ann who is starting to stir. Sam brushes himself off and goes to her side to help her sit up. She looks around in surprise, and her eyes fall on the pieces of her husband. “Is he really gone?” she asks in a subdued voice.

“Yeah. The banishing sigil Babesne gave me worked after all,” Sam says, rubbing at her back in comfort.

“I knew that thing in the safe had to be something important. I’m glad I found it and gave it to her,” Ann says, her arms come around him seeking human contact after her massive loss and trauma, Sam gives in and just hugs her for a long moment. She seems to let go and sink into him, and he pulls away to check that she hasn’t passed out. But then he catches a glimpse of green flashing in her eyes. Green that should not ever be in her pale blue eyes. Her arms tighten around him like steel bands, and he can’t move.

“Let him go of him, bitch!” Dean yells from the top of the staircase across the rooftop.

Sam turns his head away as she snarls in his face, the bullets Dean must be shooting whizz by and miss her completely.  “Dean the sigil, get the paper, over there, put it on her forehead,” Sam manages to say as she cuts off his air with one arm around his neck. The world starts swimming and Sam is saying the words he memorized, just in case Dean has found the paper and gotten it onto Ann’s forehead. He can’t see, or hear, but maybe just maybe Dean’s managed it. The pressure on his windpipe eases up and he’s saying the words over and over, “ _Hocatos, Imorad, Surater, Markila.”_ One last time through is all it takes. The creature throws Sam away from it with terrible force, he lands hard up against the rooftop railing.  The last thing he hears is a horrible crack when his shoulder impacts the concrete wall.

An even worse sound to Dean’s ears is Sam’s head hitting the tiled floor. Ann’s arms go limp and she slumps down, neck bent like she’s fallen asleep. Ann’s head arches back suddenly, her whole body going taut as a huge column of greenish-black smoke pours out of her mouth. This time when she comes back to herself, she’s only Ann. And she’s entirely grateful.

“What was that?” Ann asks, completely confused.

“Whatever it was, it possessed you, but we kicked it out,” Dean answers.

Dean lets go of her to go check on Sam. There’s a weak, but steady pulse, but the side of Sam’s head is already swelling, and his previously injured shoulder is at a completely wrong angle. Ann unsteadily gets to her feet. “I’ll go call 9-1-1, stay with him,” she says, leaving them alone up on the roof.

“Sam, you are not going anywhere, you hear me? Dammit, Sammy, you have to stay with me, you promised,” Dean says, knowing that he’s begging pointlessly, but Sam might hear him, who knows? He holds onto him tightly, praying that the ambulance gets to them in time.

~~*~~

“So let me get this straight, Eric wasn’t happy with letting the demon ride him, he was trying to get the demon to jump over, and take you over permanently? To what? Get control of the Black Pullet or to hurt the girls?” Dean asks, rubbing the side of his head with the hand that’s not holding Sam’s.

“It’s hard to admit, but he sold out our family for more power of his own, since all the wealth is in my name, not his. All the fortune is passed down the matrilineal line. If you hadn’t banished it from me, my family would have been ruined,” Ann says, handing him a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria.

“I’m just sorry he did that to all of you. Just for money or power or whatever,” Dean says, shaking his head.

“Thanks. I don’t know how we can ever thank you guys, for what you did for us,” Ann says, looking at him across Sam’s comatose form, so limp and uninhabited under the woven thermal blanket.

“I’m just glad you’re all okay, really, that’s what makes it worth it for us. That you guys will all have a life after this,” Dean says, trying to sound hopeful, and to keep the wavery emotion out of his voice when he thinks of the possibility of what he and Sam might or might not have to look forward to, if the jerk could ever bother to wake up that is.

Ann nods at him, and looks at Sam’s quiet face, still so bruised and swollen after a week. She looks at Dean and his not as bruised face, sad and still hopeful through it all. “I hope someday I can find someone to try having a life with again. And that it’s even halfway to what you guys have together.”

“You’ll find someone, Ann, don’t worry,” Dean says, glad to have something else to think about instead of worrying about Sam.

“It’s always been hard finding someone, because I don’t know how they’ll feel about my life and how strange it can be. Eric seemed so interested in it all, I guess I know why now. Maybe I need to have you guys check my dates out, if I ever have any,” Ann jokes.

Dean chuckles a little at the idea of Sam and him vetting her suitors at some point. “We can do that if you want. No matter what, you’ll always have us anyway. Whenever you need us, just call. Sam and me, we both want to make sure your girls grow up safe. They’re something special.”

“I think you guys should stay here in the city with us while Sam recuperates fully. In fact I insist. Call it selfish, but I want you two around. As the rescued party, I’m pretty sure I get to make that call.  And I’m paying all the hospital and rehab bills, so don’t bother arguing about it.”

Dean grins in acceptance and shakes his head at her generosity. It’s wonderful to hear someone else be as blindly positive about Sam’s chances as he is, all the doctor’s talk of percentages of a successful recovery has shaken him to the core. Sam has to recover, that’s all there is to it.

~~*~~

 “We’re gonna be just like you guys when we grow up. We’re gonna fight bad guys together and be girlfriends, and it’s gonna be awesome,” Sarie says, holding onto Dean’s hand as they walk through the park on the way for her daily visit to see Sam in the hospital.

Dean sighs and gathers her up into his arms, still walking on the wooded pathway. He needs to be sure that these words are really heard and understood. “Sarie, me and Sam, you know that’s not what people usually do right? Usually you find someone to love that isn’t your brother or your sister.”

“But me and Macky aren’t like usual,” Sarie says, putting her arms around his neck.

“True. But you’re so young, I just think you ought to look outside your family for love too. It doesn’t mean you don’t love Macky enough. She just might not be the right person for you to spend your life with.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Sarie asks.

“I’m not saying no don’t do it ever. I’m just saying, don’t get stuck thinking that’s your only option. That’s all. There are a lot of people out there in the whole big world that you haven’t even met yet.”

“But none of them are Macky,” Sarie says, sounding sad that so many people have to go through life in such an awful condition.

“True. But there’s only ever one of a person anyway. There’s only one you, one of your mom, right? What I’m saying is, that you don’t know what kind of person you’ll want to be with when you grow up all the way, a lot of stuff changes over the years,” Dean says.

“But it didn’t for you and Sam,” Sarie insists stubbornly.

Dean switches her over to his other hip, resettling her so she can see his face. “It did and it didn’t, it’s complicated honey. Listen, I’m glad that you and Macky love each other so much. That’s what you’re supposed to do, and that’s forever. But you guys are going to have a very different kind of life than Sam and I did, with a lot of friends around you for years and years that you’ll both get to know, together and separately. I’m just saying, you and Macky have a lot of time to figure this stuff out, okay?”

“Okay, but I’m still always gonna love her,” Sarie says.

“Good, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. No matter what.”

Sarie doesn’t say anything, just rests her head on Dean’s shoulder, her body relaxing a little. Dean hopes that what he’s said made sense to her, and he wonders if he said the right thing, or if he should tell Ann just in case. _What would Sam do here?_ He thinks for the thousandth time over the last month since Sam’s been in a coma.

~~*~~

A few weeks later, Dean sits at Sam’s bedside in the hospital. At least it isn’t the ICU anymore, and no matter how nice it is, it’s still a hospital, one that he’s gotten way too familiar with over the last month. All the waiting and worrying and hoping, even praying when he got desperate enough for Sam to wake up.  He closes his eyes and lays his head down on the bed in the space next to Sam’s hip, lips moving in a continuous silent plea, _come back to me Sammy you promised me you wouldn’t leave me please wake up_. He startles at the light touch on the back of his neck and sits up, eyes wide in surprise. 

“You came back to me,” Dean says, eyes welling up with unshed tears. “Took you long enough.”

“I always do, eventually,” Sam croaks, “Water please.”

Dean holds a cup of room-temperature water with a bendy straw that Sam sips slowly and runs the water around the inside of his mouth. “How long was I out?”

“Three weeks this time, two weeks before,” Dean answers, eyes never leaving the miracle of Sam’s beautiful eyes finally being open and alive again like they’re supposed to be.

“Before? I don’t remember a before,” Sam says, looking confused and out-of-sorts that he doesn’t know what Dean means.

“Yeah, they told me you probably wouldn’t. It’s been five weeks Sammy,” Dean says, voice cracking on _five weeks_ , because damn it’s been so long without him to talk to.

“Nice beard by the way,” Sam says, reaching out a weak hand to stroke the side of Dean’s face closest to him.

“Sarie calls it my Sam beard,” Dean says, the tears of relief starting to flow down his cheeks to wet his gingery beard.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long, Dean,” Sam says, touching the tracks the tears are leaving down Dean’s face.

“Doesn’t matter, all that matters is you’re back now,” Dean replies, his own fingers twining with Sam’s on his face, feeling the heat and pulse of Sam’s aliveness in them.

“Is this Sinai? How are we affording this?” Sam asks, eyes darting around the fancy hospital room. A single private room no less, with comfortable upholstered furniture for guests, beautiful window treatments, and many vases of flower arrangements arranged on the window sill.

“Yeah it is. Ann’s paying for all of it, she says nothing but the best for you,” Dean answers. “You had a major concussion and swelling that they had to operate on. Sorry about the hair. They were gonna cut just that side of your head, but I told them to do the whole shebang so you can start out even. And your shoulder is permanently messed up, pins and a plate are holding it together.”

“Am I going to be able to move it?” Sam asks after a long pause where he might be thinking or just spacing out.

“Yeah Sammy, you gotta do rehab, but it’ll be usable. Not one-hundred percent, probably ever, but usable.”

“Girls okay after everything?” Sam asks.

“Yep, they bounced back pretty quickly. As you can see Sarie has been busy,” Dean says, pointing at the walls which are covered in her drawings. Sigils and black hens and golden eggs intertwined with the usual five year old doodles. And everywhere is her writing, Get Better Sam, Get Well Soon Sam, Sam Play Frisbee With Me Again, on and on.

“She can write all that? At her age?” Sam asks, sounding completely surprised and impressed.

“Yeah, I took care of her for a while. Babesne said I needed something to take my mind off of you since my heart was a lost cause,” Dean admits. “She got pretty good with all the practice I made her do.”

“You make such a good dad, or uncle, or whatever you are to her by now,” Sam says with a fond smile.

“She’s calling us Uncles, that’s what she’s decided. And she says it’s forever, and we can’t get out of it.”

Sam laughs at that, and then a wave of pain passes through him at the sudden movement. “Still hurts, but god that’s funny. So we’re stuck with her huh?”

“Looks like,” Dean answers with a grin.

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Sam says with a weak smile.

~~*~~

After two months of rehab, and then the holidays spent with the Merrell girls in a whirl of lights and presents and food, they are finally leaving New York City. The car doors slam in unison, and suddenly everything is better in his world. It’s been way too long since he’s been here with Dean. Baby starts up just like she always does, roaring to life, coughing a bit, then evening out into the usual purring growl.

“This’ll be the hard part, watch the pillar on the right for me,” Dean asks as he starts trying to back out of the tiny parking space. 

“Maybe you can break your record of back and forth parking, I think it was thirty tries in Chicago,” Sam observes. “You’re close on this side.”

“I’m close over here too.” Dean skillfully backs up and then inches forward and back, cutting the wheel and advancing to make the corner out of the garage.  “You’d think this garage would be made for bigger cars since the building’s so old.”

“You’ve almost got it,” Sam encourages, adjusting the knit beanie that he always wears since his now very short hair leaves him so cold. He feels impatient for it to grow longer again. At least it’s not a complete buzz cut like he had straight out of the hospital.

Finally Dean pulls them out straight, and they drive out of the underground garage, blinking blindly into the bright January early morning sun. “Where to?”

“Go West, young man! That’s all I’ve got at the moment,” Sam says with a laugh, studiously refusing to pull out a map and start navigating this early. And he can’t anyway with his arm in a shoulder isolation sling, and his brain still recovering from the concussion and surgery.

“Back on the road again,” Dean starts singing, very badly, at the top of his voice.

Sam goggles at him in surprise. “Really Dean?”

“It’s the only song that fits right now, and you know it, you gotta give it up for Willie,” Dean says, continuing the song, until Sam gives in and joins him singing the chorus.  They grin at each other and laugh, it’s way too early for singing.

“How many of those eggs did they give us again?” Dean asks, navigating through the crowded mess of morning Manhattan traffic.

“One for each year of the girl’s lives we saved, up until they needed Protecting. So thirteen from Sarie and eighteen from Macky, that’s thirty-three total,” Sam answers, glancing in the back seat at the large wooden boxes that contain all their new treasure.

“How much gold is that all together?” Dean asks, switching lanes to get around a double-parked delivery truck and swerving out of the way of a taxi coming the other way.

Sam tries not to react to Dean’s city driving and concentrates on the math problem Dean is providing him. “Well, I didn’t weigh them with a digital scale or anything, but I’d guess they’re about a pound each, so that’s thirty-three pounds or so.”

“What’s that worth, wouldja say?” Dean asks, drumming his fingers on the wheel in time to the Black Sabbath on the radio.

“Depends on how pure it is. But probably between six or eight-hundred thousand,” Sam answers after doing the figuring in his head. He smiles when he realizes why Dean’s asking all these questions right now while they’re in traffic. Dean’s distracting him from freaking out at the traffic.

Dean whistles in admiration and surprise. “That’s a whole lot of money, whaddya you wanna do with it Sammy?”

“Spend it on a place to retire, I’ve got to admit, I’m done with hunting, Dean,” Sam says, scared at being so honest, when he knows Dean probably won’t want to join him in retirement, even if he says he does.

“Yeah I know. Not telling me anything I didn’t already figure out. And no apologizing. We gave it everything we had, many times over, so we’re out,” Dean says like it’s the end of the argument, no other options, but there’s a relief behind the words that Sam can hear.

“You don’t have to be out, I mean you can keep hunting if you want to,” Sam protests, still trying to picture his brother not being a hunter, and there’s nothing that he can put in there that will ever make sense.

“I know you don’t really mean that. And I don’t want to hunt solo anyways, only wanna keep doin’ it with you,” Dean says.

“Well you can. Keep doin’ it with me,” Sam says with a straight face that he knows wouldn’t fool anyone, especially Dean.

“That’s a whole ‘nother subject Sam,” Dean drawls, taking him up on the innuendo.

“Yeah I know, we’re going to have a lot of time to fill without all the driving around killing monsters,” Sam says. Two yellow cabs have a near collision in the intersection they’re passing through and erupt into a battle of honking horns. Sam winces at the noise. “I’m not really going to miss being in the city after all this.”

“Yeah me neither. And you missed most of it while you were out cold. So no big city living’ for us after all huh?” Dean asks.

“Not so much, but a suburb of one would be alright I guess. I wouldn’t mind having some room between us and the neighbors. But still be close enough to go to the city for cultural stuff which yes, before you ask, does include both baseball games and rock concerts.”

Dean laughs because he knows they’re going to end up going to just as many museums or plays as baseball games and concerts if Sam has anything to do with the planning. “With your pins and plates, you want to shoot for somewhere without a real winter?”

“That’d probably be better for me, if you can deal with missing out on snow,” Sam says with a slight tease in his voice, thinking of all those snowball fights and snow angels and yellow snow writing contests that Dean always gleefully insists they do whenever there’s more than an inch of snow on the ground.

“Dude! I am not the one who likes snow, you are,” Dean insists.

“Why do you always have so much fun in it then?” Sam asks, with a very obvious tease in his voice.

“Usually because you are,” Dean says with a shrug like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam looks at his brother for a long moment, taking in what those words mean over the whole lifetime of history they share. He inhales a deep breath and holds Dean’s hand loosely in his. “Sometimes, because of stuff like that, I really wonder if we’re just one person in two bodies.”

“Pretty sure that’s the dictionary definition of soul mates, Sammy,” Dean answers, squeezing their hands together.

Sam doesn’t reply to that, because what can he really add? They are soul mates, through and through. Now that there’s no more denial of it coming from either of them, suddenly their completely changing life is so much clearer and even more promising, all at once.

~FIN~


End file.
